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A certain raw energy was set free among Nigerian artists in the years before independence. The hundred-year dominance of colonialism was nearing its end and the population of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and ebullient energy, were positioned for a different era in which they would decide the framework of their lives.

Those who best expressed that complex situation, that paradox of modernity and custom, were artists in all their varieties. Practitioners across the country, in continuous conversation with one another, created works that referenced their traditions but in a modern context. 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 vision of art in a rigorously 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 reestablish ties its traditional ways, but adapted to the present day. It was a new art, both contemplative and joyous. Often it was an art that hinted at the many dimensions of Nigerian folklore; often it incorporated daily realities.

Spirits, forefather spirits, practices, traditional displays featured centrally, alongside common subjects of dancing figures, representations and landscapes, but rendered in a unique light, with a palette that was totally different from anything in the western tradition.

Worldwide Connections

It is crucial to highlight that these were not artists working in solitude. They were in touch with the trends of world art, as can be seen by the approaches to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a answer as such but a reclaiming, a reappropriation, of what cubism borrowed from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian modernism expressed 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 simmering with energy and cultural tensions. Christopher Okigbo wrote in Labyrinths, 1967, that "We carry in our worlds that flourish / Our worlds that have failed." But the contrary is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Current Impact

Two notable contemporary events bear this out. The much-awaited 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 notorious burning of African works of art by the British in that same city, in 1897.

The other is the forthcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to highlight Nigeria's contribution to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a crucial part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who sojourned here during the Nigerian civil war and crafted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have molded the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The legacy continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the potential of global sculpture with his monumental works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have continued the story of Nigerian modernism into modern era, bringing about a revitalization not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Artist Insights

On Musical Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not copying anyone, but creating a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something innovative 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 impactful, inspiring 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 newly commissioned work: stained glass, sculptures, impressive creations. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could convey the experience of a nation.

Literary Significance

If I had to choose one piece of Nigerian art which has affected 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 divided my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a seminal moment for me – it gave voice to a history that had influenced 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 make fun of the idea of Nigerian or African art. We pursued representation wherever we could.

Artistic Social Commentary

I loved discovering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, in dynamic costumes, and challenged authority. 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 confidently outspoken and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Modern Manifestations

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 emphasis on family, domestic life and memory gave me the certainty to know that my own experiences were adequate, and that I could build a career making work that is boldly personal.

I make representational art that explore identity, memory and family, often using my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with exploring history – 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 blending 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 largely ignored 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 overseas artists finding their voices.

Cultural Tradition

Nigerians are, essentially, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a innate motivation, a dedicated approach and a community that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our ambition is rooted 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 developmental in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to shared experiences while remaining firmly grounded in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how exploration within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage influences what I find most pressing in my work, navigating the different elements of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These intersecting experiences bring different priorities and interests into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these impacts and perspectives melt together.