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A certain fundamental energy was unleashed among Nigerian practitioners in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year dominance of colonialism was coming to a close and the citizens of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and lively energy, were ready for a different era in which they would shape the nature of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that complex situation, that tension of contemporary life and heritage, were creators in all their stripes. Practitioners across the country, in constant dialogue with one another, produced works that recalled their cultural practices but in a modern 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 concept 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 displayed all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its ancient ways, but adapted to contemporary life. It was a new art, both introspective and festive. Often it was an art that alluded to the many facets of Nigerian mythology; often it referenced common experiences.

Spirits, forefather spirits, practices, traditional displays featured centrally, alongside frequent subjects of moving forms, likenesses and vistas, but executed in a unique light, with a visual language that was utterly unlike anything in the European art heritage.

Global Exchanges

It is important to highlight that these were not artists working in solitude. They were in touch with the trends 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 retrieval, a recovery, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian modernism manifested 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 show 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 reverse is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Contemporary Significance

Two notable contemporary events demonstrate this. The much-awaited opening of the art museum in the historic center of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the single most important event in African art since the notorious 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 highlight Nigeria's role 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 resided 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 influenced the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The heritage continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the opportunities of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have prolonged 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.

Artist Insights

On Artistic Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not replicating anyone, but producing a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it produces 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, uplifting and intimately tied 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 recently created work: colored glass, sculptures, impressive creations. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could narrate the history of a nation.

Written Impact

If I had to choose one piece of Nigerian art which has impacted 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 foundational 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 exposure to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would make fun of the idea of Nigerian or African art. We sought out representation wherever we could.

Musical Activism

I loved encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in dynamic costumes, and spoke truth to power. I'd grown up with the idea that we always had to be very careful 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.

Modern Expressions

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 coming home. 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 confidently personal.

I make figurative paintings that explore 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 converting those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the methods 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 encountering Black artists – specifically Nigerian ones – because art education generally neglected 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, essentially, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a strong work ethic and a community that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, 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 formative in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to common concerns while remaining deeply rooted in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how exploration within tradition can produce new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage informs what I find most urgent in my work, managing the different elements of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These overlapping experiences bring different concerns and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these effects and perspectives melt together.