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Some raw force was released among Nigerian creatives in the years before independence. The century-long dominance of colonialism was coming to a close and the population of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and vibrant energy, were poised for a new future in which they would decide the nature of their lives.

Those who best expressed that double position, that contradiction of modernity and custom, were creators in all their forms. Creatives across the country, in continuous conversation with one another, developed works that referenced their cultural practices but in a modern 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 reimagining the vision of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that congregated in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its traditional ways, but modified to modern times. It was a new art, both introspective and joyous. Often it was an art that alluded to the many facets of Nigerian mythology; often it incorporated common experiences.

Ancestral beings, traditional entities, ceremonies, cultural performances featured centrally, alongside common subjects of dancing figures, likenesses and scenes, but rendered in a distinctive light, with a palette that was totally unlike anything in the Western artistic canon.

Worldwide Connections

It is important to stress that these were not artists producing in seclusion. 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 answer as such but a reclaiming, a reappropriation, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement 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 depict a nation fermenting 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 opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Contemporary Influence

Two significant 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 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 spotlight Nigeria's role to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and artists in Britain have been a vital 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 molded the artistic and intellectual life of these isles.

The heritage continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the possibilities 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.

Artist Insights

On Artistic Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a prime example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not replicating anyone, but developing a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something fresh out of history.

I grew up 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 impactful, uplifting and deeply connected to Nigerian identity, and left a lasting impression 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: art glass, carvings, large-scale works. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Written 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 affected my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a foundational moment for me – it articulated 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 exposure to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would mock the idea of Nigerian or African art. We looked for representation wherever we could.

Musical Political Expression

I loved discovering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in colorful costumes, and challenged authority. 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 rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be boldly vocal and creative, something that feels even more pressing for my generation.

Modern Manifestations

The artist who has motivated 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 emphasis on family, domestic life and memory gave me the confidence 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 using my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with exploring history – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and converting those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the tools to blend these experiences with my British identity, and that blending 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 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 Legacy

Nigerians are, essentially, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a natural drive, a dedicated approach and a community that backs 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 developmental 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 innovation within tradition can generate new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage influences 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 interests into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these influences and outlooks melt together.