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Some primal vitality was released 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 numerous tribes and ebullient energy, were ready for a new future in which they would decide the framework of their lives.

Those who most articulated that dual stance, that contradiction of modernity and custom, were creators in all their forms. Creatives across the country, in continuous exchange with one another, developed works that evoked their traditions but in a modern setting. 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 group that gathered in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its historical ways, but adjusted to the present day. It was a innovative creative form, both brooding and joyous. Often it was an art that suggested the many dimensions of Nigerian legend; often it drew upon daily realities.

Deities, forefather spirits, ceremonies, traditional displays featured centrally, alongside popular subjects of dancing figures, likenesses and vistas, but presented in a unique light, with a color scheme that was utterly distinct from anything in the western tradition.

Global Influences

It is important to highlight that these were not artists working in isolation. They were in touch with the currents of world art, as can be seen by the approaches to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a response as such but a taking back, a reappropriation, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian modernism revealed 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 portray a nation bubbling 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 Influence

Two significant contemporary events demonstrate this. The long-anticipated opening of the art museum in the ancient city of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the most crucial 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 focus on Nigeria's role to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers 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 created 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 legacy continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the possibilities of global sculpture with his monumental works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who reimagined Nigerian craft and modern design. They have extended the story of Nigerian modernism into contemporary times, bringing about a revitalization not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Artist Viewpoints

On Artistic Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not replicating anyone, but developing a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it produces something fresh 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, elevating and deeply connected to Nigerian identity, and left a enduring impact 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 specially produced work: art glass, carvings, large-scale works. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could convey the experience of a nation.

Literary Influence

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 separated 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 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 sought out 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 fusion of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a accompaniment and a call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently expressive and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Contemporary Forms

The artist who has influenced 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 enough, and that I could build a career making work that is unapologetically personal.

I make figurative paintings that investigate 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 skills to fuse these experiences with my British identity, and that combination became the language 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 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 Tradition

Nigerians are, essentially, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a natural drive, a dedicated approach and a network 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 main bridge connecting me to Nigeria, especially as someone who doesn't speak Yoruba. Niyi Osundare's poetry has been formative in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to universal themes while remaining strongly connected in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how innovation within tradition can produce new forms of expression.

The duality of my heritage influences what I find most pressing in my work, negotiating the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These overlapping experiences bring different concerns and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a space where these influences and perspectives melt together.