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A certain primal vitality was released among Nigerian artists in the years before independence. The century-long rule of colonialism was nearing its end and the citizens of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and ebullient energy, were positioned for a different era in which they would decide the nature of their lives.

Those who most articulated that dual stance, that contradiction of modernity and custom, were creators in all their forms. Artists across the country, in ongoing exchange with one another, created works that referenced their cultural practices but in a contemporary context. 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 thoroughly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that assembled in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its historical ways, but adapted to modern times. It was a innovative creative form, both introspective and celebratory. Often it was an art that suggested the many facets of Nigerian folklore; often it drew upon daily realities.

Spirits, ancestral presences, ceremonies, cultural performances featured significantly, alongside popular subjects of dancing figures, likenesses and vistas, but presented in a unique light, with a palette that was totally distinct from anything in the western tradition.

Worldwide Exchanges

It is crucial to emphasize that these were not artists working in solitude. They were in touch with the currents of world art, as can be seen by the responses to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a answer as such but a retrieval, a recovery, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other field in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement expressed 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 depict a nation bubbling 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 reverse is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Modern Significance

Two significant contemporary events demonstrate this. The much-awaited 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 highlight Nigeria's role to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a vital part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who resided here during the Nigerian civil war and sculpted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the visual and intellectual life of these isles.

The legacy persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the potential of global sculpture with his monumental works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who alchemised Nigerian craft and modern design. They have prolonged the story of Nigerian modernism into the present day, bringing about a renewal not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Creative Viewpoints

On Musical Creativity

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

I was raised 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 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 landmark 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 formative experience, showing me that art could convey the experience of a nation.

Literary 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 affected my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a pivotal 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 familiarity to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would ridicule the idea of Nigerian or African art. We pursued 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 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 musical backdrop and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be boldly vocal and creative, something that feels even more pressing for my generation.

Modern Forms

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 returning to roots. 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 confidently personal.

I make representational art that explore identity, memory and family, often using 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 methods 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 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 international artists finding their voices.

Artistic Heritage

Nigerians are, basically, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a natural drive, a strong work ethic and a group that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our ambition is rooted 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 exploration within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The duality of my heritage informs what I find most important in my work, navigating 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 arena where these impacts and viewpoints melt together.