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Some raw force was released among Nigerian creatives in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year reign of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the population of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and ebullient energy, were ready for a different era in which they would decide the nature of their lives.

Those who best expressed that dual stance, that contradiction of modernity and custom, were artists in all their forms. Creatives across the country, in ongoing dialogue with one another, created works that recalled their traditions but in a modern framework. Figures such as Yusuf Grillo in the north, Bruce Onobrakpeya from the midwest, Ben Enwonwu from the east and Twins Seven Seven from the west were reimagining the dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the group that congregated in Lagos and showcased all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its ancient ways, but modified to contemporary life. It was a new art, both introspective and joyous. Often it was an art that suggested the many facets of Nigerian folklore; often it referenced common experiences.

Spirits, forefather spirits, rituals, traditional displays featured prominently, alongside common subjects of moving forms, portraits and vistas, but rendered in a distinctive light, with a color scheme that was utterly unlike anything in the Western artistic canon.

Global Influences

It is important to emphasize that these were not artists creating in isolation. They were in touch with the movements of world art, as can be seen by the approaches to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a reaction as such but a retrieval, a reappropriation, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian modernism manifested itself is in the Nigerian novel. Works such as Chinua Achebe's seminal Things Fall Apart, Wole Soyinka's The Interpreters and Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard are all works that depict a nation bubbling with energy and identity struggles. Christopher Okigbo wrote in Labyrinths, 1967, that "We carry in our worlds that flourish / Our worlds that have failed." But the opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Contemporary Significance

Two important contemporary events confirm this. The eagerly expected opening of the art museum in the historic center of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the most crucial event in African art since the infamous burning of African works of art by the British in that same city, in 1897.

The other is the approaching exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to spotlight Nigeria's role to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and artists in Britain have been a crucial part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who lived here during the Nigerian civil war and created Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the visual and intellectual life of these isles.

The heritage endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the possibilities of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have prolonged the story of Nigerian modernism into the present day, bringing about a regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Artist Perspectives

Regarding Artistic Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not copying anyone, but producing a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something fresh out of history.

I grew up between Lagos and London, and used to pay frequent visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was compelling, elevating and strongly linked to Nigerian identity, and left a memorable effect on me, even as a child. In 1977, when I was a teenager, Nigeria hosted the landmark Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of specially produced work: stained glass, engravings, monumental installations. It was a formative experience, showing me that art could narrate the history of a nation.

Literary Impact

If I had to choose one piece of Nigerian art which has impacted me the most, it would be Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. It is about the Nigerian civil war in the 60s, which separated my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a pivotal moment for me – it articulated a history that had molded my life but was never spoken about.

I grew up in Newcastle in the 70s and 80s, and there was no exposure to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would ridicule the idea of Nigerian or African art. We looked for representation wherever we could.

Artistic Political Expression

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in colorful costumes, and spoke truth to power. I'd grown up with the idea that we always had to be very guarded of not wanting to say too much when it came to politics. His music – a combination of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a musical backdrop and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically expressive and creative, something that feels even more pressing for my generation.

Modern Expressions

The artist who has inspired me most is Njideka Akunyili Crosby. I saw her work for the first time at the Venice Biennale in 2013, and it felt like coming home. Her focus on family, domestic life and memory gave me the confidence to know that my own experiences were enough, and that I could build a career making work that is confidently personal.

I make figurative paintings that explore identity, memory and family, often drawing on my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with examining the past – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and translating those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the tools to combine these experiences with my British identity, and that fusion became the language I use as an artist today.

It wasn't until my mid-20s that I began encountering Black artists – specifically Nigerian ones – because art education mostly overlooked them. In the last five years or so, Nigeria's cultural presence has grown substantially. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young diaspora artists finding their voices.

Artistic Tradition

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a innate motivation, a dedicated approach and a community that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our ambition is grounded in culture.

For me, poetry has been the primary bridge connecting me to Nigeria, especially as someone who doesn't speak Yoruba. Niyi Osundare's poetry has been formative in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to common concerns while remaining strongly connected in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how exploration within tradition can generate new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage shapes what I find most pressing in my work, negotiating the different elements of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These overlapping experiences bring different urgencies and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these influences and outlooks melt together.