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A certain fundamental energy was released among Nigerian practitioners in the years leading up to independence. The century-long dominance of colonialism was nearing its end and the population of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and vibrant energy, were ready for a new future in which they would determine the context of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that double position, that tension of contemporary life and tradition, were creators in all their stripes. Artists across the country, in ongoing conversation with one another, produced works that evoked their traditions but in a current 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 remaking the dream of art in a thoroughly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that congregated in Lagos and showcased all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its ancient ways, but adapted to contemporary life. It was a new art, both contemplative and joyous. Often it was an art that alluded to the many facets of Nigerian folklore; often it incorporated everyday life.

Spirits, traditional entities, ceremonies, traditional displays featured centrally, alongside common subjects of rhythmic shapes, representations and landscapes, but rendered in a unique light, with a color scheme that was utterly different from anything in the western tradition.

International Exchanges

It is essential to highlight that these were not artists creating in solitude. They were in dialogue 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 taking back, a recovery, of what cubism borrowed from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement 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 depict a nation simmering 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.

Contemporary Significance

Two significant contemporary events demonstrate this. The eagerly expected opening of the art museum in the ancient city of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the single most important 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 focus on Nigeria's input to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and artists in Britain have been a essential part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who lived here during the Nigerian civil war and sculpted 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 continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the opportunities of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who alchemised Nigerian craft and modern design. They have continued the story of Nigerian modernism into modern era, bringing about a renewal not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Practitioner Insights

Regarding Musical Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not imitating anyone, but developing a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something new out of history.

I came of age between Lagos and London, and used to pay repeated visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was compelling, uplifting 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 important Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of newly commissioned work: art glass, carvings, large-scale works. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Written Impact

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 expressed 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 familiarity 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 shirtless, 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 fusion of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a musical backdrop and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically expressive and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Current 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 concentration 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 figurative paintings that examine identity, memory and family, often drawing on my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with exploring history – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and transforming 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 expression 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 Legacy

Nigerians are, basically, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a natural drive, a dedicated approach and a community that backs 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 influential in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to common concerns while remaining firmly grounded in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how experimentation within tradition can generate new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage informs what I find most urgent 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 interests into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these influences and perspectives melt together.