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A certain raw force was set free among Nigerian creatives in the years before independence. The hundred-year reign of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the citizens of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and vibrant energy, were poised for a fresh chapter in which they would determine the framework of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that double position, that tension of contemporary life and custom, were creators in all their forms. Practitioners across the country, in continuous exchange with one another, developed works that recalled their cultural practices but in a modern context. 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 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 showcased all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its traditional ways, but adapted to contemporary life. It was a innovative creative form, both brooding and joyous. Often it was an art that hinted at the many facets of Nigerian mythology; often it incorporated daily realities.

Ancestral beings, ancestral presences, ceremonies, masquerades featured centrally, alongside common subjects of moving forms, representations and scenes, but executed in a unique light, with a color scheme that was completely unlike anything in the Western artistic canon.

Worldwide Exchanges

It is important to stress that these were not artists working in seclusion. They were in touch with the currents of world art, as can be seen by the reactions to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a response as such but a reclaiming, a recovery, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other field in which this Nigerian modernism revealed 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 depict 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 contrary is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Contemporary Influence

Two significant contemporary events confirm this. The much-awaited opening of the art museum in the traditional capital 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 forthcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to highlight Nigeria's contribution to the larger story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and artists in Britain have been a vital part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who resided 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 shaped the visual and intellectual life of these isles.

The tradition persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the possibilities of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who reimagined Nigerian craft and modern design. They have continued 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.

Artist Insights

Regarding Musical Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. 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 creates something innovative out of history.

I came of age between Lagos and London, and used to pay regular visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was impactful, uplifting and intimately tied to Nigerian identity, and left a lasting impression 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 newly commissioned work: colored glass, carvings, large-scale works. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Written Significance

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 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 access to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would make fun of 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 without a shirt, in vibrant costumes, and spoke truth to power. I'd grown up with the idea that we always had to be very cautious of not wanting to say too much when it came to politics. His music – a blend of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a soundtrack and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically outspoken and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Modern Manifestations

The artist who has motivated 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 assurance to know that my own experiences were sufficient, and that I could build a career making work that is unapologetically personal.

I make figurative paintings that investigate identity, memory and family, often using my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with examining the past – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and converting those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the skills to blend these experiences with my British identity, and that fusion 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 largely ignored 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 diaspora artists finding their voices.

Artistic Legacy

Nigerians are, basically, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a natural drive, a dedicated approach and a community that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our aspiration 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 common concerns while remaining strongly connected 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 shapes what I find most important in my work, managing the multiple aspects of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different concerns and interests into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these impacts and outlooks melt together.