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Some primal force was released among Nigerian artists in the years leading up to independence. The hundred-year rule of colonialism was coming to a close and the people of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and vibrant energy, were ready for a new future in which they would determine the framework of their lives.

Those who best expressed that dual stance, that tension of contemporary life and tradition, were creators in all their stripes. Practitioners across the country, in continuous exchange with one another, produced works that recalled their cultural practices but in a current framework. 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 reinventing the vision 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 deep. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its traditional ways, but modified to modern times. It was a new art, both contemplative and celebratory. Often it was an art that alluded to the many aspects of Nigerian legend; often it referenced common experiences.

Spirits, ancestral presences, ceremonies, traditional displays featured significantly, alongside frequent subjects of dancing figures, representations and vistas, but rendered in a special light, with a visual language that was utterly unlike anything in the European art heritage.

Global Influences

It is important to emphasize that these were not artists creating in seclusion. They were in contact with the trends 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 taking back, 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 influential Things Fall Apart, Wole Soyinka's The Interpreters and Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard are all works that portray a nation fermenting 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.

Modern Significance

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 significant 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 upcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to spotlight Nigeria's role to the larger story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a essential 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 molded the artistic and intellectual life of these isles.

The legacy endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the potential of global sculpture with his impressive works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have extended 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.

Creative Viewpoints

About Artistic Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a prime example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not replicating anyone, but creating a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it makes something new 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 powerful, 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 significant Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of recently created work: colored glass, sculptures, large-scale works. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could convey the experience of a nation.

Literary Impact

If I had to choose one piece of Nigerian art which has influenced 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 pivotal moment for me – it gave voice to a history that had shaped 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 sought out representation wherever we could.

Artistic Activism

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 blend of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a accompaniment and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently outspoken and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

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

I make human form works that investigate identity, memory and family, often referencing 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 vocabulary I use as an artist today.

It wasn't until my mid-20s that I began finding 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.

Artistic Tradition

Nigerians are, essentially, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a dedicated approach and a network that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our ambition is based in culture.

For me, poetry has been the key 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 exploration within tradition can generate new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage influences what I find most important in my work, managing the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different concerns and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these effects and perspectives melt together.