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Some primal force was released among Nigerian artists in the years leading up to independence. The hundred-year reign of colonialism was nearing its end and the people of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and lively energy, were ready for a fresh chapter in which they would determine the framework of their lives.

Those who best expressed that complex situation, that contradiction of modernity and custom, were creators in all their varieties. Artists across the country, in continuous dialogue with one another, produced works that referenced their cultural practices but in a contemporary 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 reimagining the concept of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that gathered in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its ancient ways, but adjusted to modern times. It was a innovative creative form, both introspective and celebratory. Often it was an art that alluded to the many aspects of Nigerian folklore; often it incorporated daily realities.

Deities, forefather spirits, ceremonies, cultural performances featured prominently, alongside common subjects of rhythmic shapes, representations and landscapes, but presented in a unique light, with a visual language that was totally unlike anything in the European art heritage.

International Influences

It is crucial to highlight that these were not artists working in seclusion. 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 answer as such but a taking back, a retrieval, 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 influential Things Fall Apart, Wole Soyinka's The Interpreters and Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard are all works that show a nation bubbling with energy and societal conflicts. 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 Influence

Two notable 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 infamous 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 contribution to the wider 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 lived here during the Nigerian civil war and created Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, figures such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the artistic and intellectual life of these isles.

The heritage persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the possibilities of global sculpture with his impressive works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who reimagined Nigerian craft and modern design. They have continued the story of Nigerian modernism into the present day, bringing about a regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Artist Viewpoints

On Musical Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not imitating anyone, but producing a new sound. 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 regular visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was compelling, uplifting and intimately tied to Nigerian identity, and left a lasting impression 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 recently created work: art glass, carvings, large-scale works. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could convey the experience of a nation.

Literary Significance

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 divided 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 shaped 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 mock 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 shirtless, in vibrant costumes, and spoke truth to power. 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 soundtrack and a call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically expressive and creative, something that feels even more pressing for my generation.

Current 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 focus on family, domestic life and memory gave me the confidence to know that my own experiences were sufficient, and that I could build a career making work that is unapologetically personal.

I make representational art that examine identity, memory and family, often referencing 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 skills to fuse 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 finding Black artists – specifically Nigerian ones – because art education generally neglected them. In the last five years or so, Nigeria's cultural presence has grown considerably. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young international artists finding their voices.

Cultural Heritage

Nigerians are, basically, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a natural drive, a dedicated approach and a network that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our drive 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 common concerns while remaining strongly connected in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how innovation within tradition can produce new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage influences what I find most urgent in my work, negotiating 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 arena where these influences and perspectives melt together.