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Some primal vitality was set free among Nigerian creatives in the years before independence. The hundred-year dominance of colonialism was coming to a close and the citizens of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and ebullient energy, were positioned for a new future in which they would shape the context of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that dual stance, that contradiction of modernity and custom, were creators in all their forms. Artists across the country, in constant exchange with one another, created works that recalled their traditions but in a modern setting. Artists 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 concept of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that assembled in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its historical ways, but adjusted to contemporary life. It was a innovative creative form, both contemplative and celebratory. Often it was an art that alluded to the many aspects of Nigerian folklore; often it drew upon common experiences.

Spirits, traditional entities, ceremonies, masquerades featured significantly, alongside popular subjects of dancing figures, likenesses and scenes, but executed in a unique light, with a visual language that was totally distinct from anything in the western tradition.

International Influences

It is crucial to highlight that these were not artists creating in solitude. They were in touch with the movements of world art, as can be seen by the responses to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a reaction as such but a taking back, a reappropriation, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

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

Current Influence

Two significant contemporary events confirm this. The much-awaited opening of the art museum in the historic center of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the single most important event in African art since the well-known 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 highlight Nigeria's role to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and artists in Britain have been a crucial part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who resided here during the Nigerian civil war and sculpted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have shaped the visual and cultural life of these isles.

The tradition endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the opportunities of global sculpture with his impressive works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who alchemised Nigerian craft and modern design. They have extended the story of Nigerian modernism into contemporary times, bringing about a regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Creative Viewpoints

On Artistic Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not imitating anyone, but creating a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it produces something innovative out of history.

I was raised 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 intimately tied 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 recently created work: art glass, carvings, monumental installations. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could convey the experience of a nation.

Written 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 affected my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a foundational moment for me – it expressed 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 access to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would mock the idea of Nigerian or African art. We looked for representation wherever we could.

Musical Activism

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed shirtless, in colorful costumes, and challenged authority. I'd grown up with the idea that we always had to be very careful of not wanting to say too much when it came to politics. His music – a fusion of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a musical backdrop and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be boldly expressive and creative, something that feels even more urgent 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 finding belonging. Her focus on family, domestic life and memory gave me the confidence to know that my own experiences were sufficient, 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 looking backwards – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and translating those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the methods to combine these experiences with my British identity, and that combination became the expression I use as an artist today.

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

Cultural Tradition

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a strong work ethic and a community that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our drive is based in culture.

For me, poetry has been the main bridge connecting me to Nigeria, especially as someone who doesn't speak Yoruba. Niyi Osundare's poetry has been influential in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to shared experiences while remaining deeply rooted in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how innovation within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The duality of my heritage influences what I find most important in my work, navigating the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different priorities and interests into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these influences and perspectives melt together.