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Some primal force was released among Nigerian artists in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year reign of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the people of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and lively energy, were poised for a different era in which they would shape the nature of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that double position, that contradiction of contemporary life and heritage, were artists in all their stripes. Artists across the country, in continuous exchange with one another, produced works that recalled their cultural practices but in a modern setting. Artists 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 rigorously Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that gathered in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its historical ways, but adapted to contemporary life. It was a innovative creative form, both introspective and celebratory. Often it was an art that suggested the many aspects of Nigerian folklore; often it referenced daily realities.

Ancestral beings, forefather spirits, practices, masquerades featured centrally, alongside frequent subjects of moving forms, likenesses and scenes, but rendered in a special light, with a color scheme that was totally unlike anything in the Western artistic canon.

International Connections

It is essential to stress that these were not artists working in isolation. They were in contact with the movements of world art, as can be seen by the reactions to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a response as such but a retrieval, a reappropriation, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement expressed itself is in the Nigerian novel. Works such as Chinua Achebe's seminal 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 contrary is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Contemporary Influence

Two notable 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 most significant 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 upcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to spotlight Nigeria's input to the wider story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a essential part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who lived here during the Nigerian civil war and sculpted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, figures such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have molded the artistic and intellectual life of these isles.

The legacy endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the potential 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 the present day, bringing about a renewal not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Practitioner Viewpoints

Regarding Artistic Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent 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 new 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 impactful, inspiring and strongly linked to Nigerian identity, and left a lasting impression 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 recently created work: colored glass, engravings, impressive creations. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Literary Impact

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 separated my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a foundational moment for me – it gave voice to 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 access to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would make fun of the idea of Nigerian or African art. We looked for representation wherever we could.

Artistic Activism

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, in colorful costumes, and challenged authority. 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 combination of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a musical backdrop and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently vocal and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Contemporary Forms

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 returning to roots. Her focus 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 boldly personal.

I make human form works that investigate 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 transforming those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the methods to blend these experiences with my British identity, and that combination became the language 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 mostly overlooked 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 overseas artists finding their voices.

Cultural Legacy

Nigerians are, essentially, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a strong work ethic and a community that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our aspiration is based in culture.

For me, poetry has been the key 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 generate new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage shapes what I find most pressing 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 concerns and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these influences and perspectives melt together.