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A certain primal vitality was released among Nigerian practitioners in the years leading up to independence. The hundred-year dominance of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the people of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and vibrant energy, were ready for a new future in which they would shape the framework of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that complex situation, that tension of contemporary life and heritage, were creators in all their stripes. Creatives across the country, in ongoing exchange with one another, produced works that referenced their cultural practices 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 reimagining the dream of art in a rigorously Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that gathered in Lagos and showcased all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its ancient ways, but adapted to contemporary life. It was a new art, both brooding and festive. Often it was an art that hinted at the many dimensions of Nigerian mythology; often it drew upon common experiences.

Spirits, ancestral presences, rituals, cultural performances featured prominently, alongside frequent subjects of dancing figures, representations and landscapes, but rendered in a unique light, with a color scheme that was utterly different from anything in the Western artistic canon.

Global Influences

It is important to highlight that these were not artists creating in solitude. They were in dialogue with the currents of world art, as can be seen by the responses to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a response as such but a taking back, a retrieval, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other domain 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 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.

Current Significance

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 crucial 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 forthcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to spotlight Nigeria's input to the larger story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and artists in Britain have been a crucial part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who lived here during the Nigerian civil war and crafted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have shaped the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The heritage continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the potential of global sculpture with his large-scale 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 regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Practitioner Viewpoints

About Artistic Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not replicating anyone, but creating a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it makes 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 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 developmental experience, showing me that art could narrate the history of a nation.

Literary 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 affected 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 influenced 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 pursued representation wherever we could.

Artistic Activism

I loved encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in vibrant 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 fusion of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a soundtrack and a call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically expressive and creative, something that feels even more important 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 finding belonging. Her concentration on family, domestic life and memory gave me the confidence to know that my own experiences were adequate, and that I could build a career making work that is unapologetically personal.

I make human form works that explore identity, memory and family, often referencing my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with examining the past – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and translating those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the tools to fuse 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 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 significantly. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young international artists finding their voices.

Artistic Tradition

Nigerians are, basically, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a innate motivation, a strong work ethic 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 main 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 universal themes 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 duality 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 overlapping experiences bring different priorities and interests into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these influences and perspectives melt together.