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Some fundamental force was unleashed among Nigerian creatives in the years leading up to independence. The century-long dominance of colonialism was coming to a close and the people of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and ebullient energy, were ready for a fresh chapter in which they would shape the nature of their lives.

Those who best expressed that complex situation, that tension of modernity and custom, were creators in all their forms. Creatives across the country, in ongoing conversation with one another, produced works that recalled their cultural practices but in a current 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 reinventing the dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that assembled in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its traditional ways, but adapted to modern times. It was a innovative creative form, both introspective and celebratory. Often it was an art that alluded to the many facets of Nigerian legend; often it incorporated daily realities.

Deities, ancestral presences, ceremonies, masquerades featured significantly, alongside popular subjects of rhythmic shapes, representations and landscapes, but rendered in a unique light, with a palette that was utterly unlike anything in the western tradition.

International Influences

It is crucial to emphasize that these were not artists producing in isolation. They were in touch with the movements of world art, as can be seen by the responses to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a reaction as such but a retrieval, a reappropriation, of what cubism borrowed from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement manifested 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 portray a nation simmering with energy and cultural tensions. 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 important contemporary events bear this out. The long-anticipated 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 notorious 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 input to the wider 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 sojourned 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 molded the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The tradition continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the opportunities of global sculpture with his impressive works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who reimagined Nigerian craft and modern design. They have extended 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.

Creative Perspectives

About Artistic Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a prime example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not replicating anyone, but creating a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it makes something innovative out of history.

I grew up 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 powerful, uplifting and deeply connected to Nigerian identity, and left a memorable effect 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, engravings, impressive creations. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could convey the experience 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 separated my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a seminal moment for me – it articulated 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 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 Social Commentary

I loved encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed shirtless, in colorful 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 combination of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a soundtrack and a call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently vocal and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Modern 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 assurance to know that my own experiences were sufficient, and that I could build a career making work that is confidently personal.

I make human form works that examine identity, memory and family, often referencing 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 tools to combine these experiences with my British identity, and that combination became the expression 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.

Cultural Tradition

Nigerians are, basically, 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 grounded 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 generate new forms of expression.

The duality of my heritage influences what I find most urgent in my work, managing the multiple aspects of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These intersecting experiences bring different urgencies and interests into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these effects and outlooks melt together.