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A certain fundamental energy was released among Nigerian artists in the years preceding independence. The century-long dominance of colonialism was nearing its end and the people of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and vibrant energy, were positioned for a new future in which they would determine the framework of their lives.

Those who most articulated that dual stance, that tension of modernity and heritage, were artists in all their forms. Artists across the country, in ongoing conversation with one another, produced works that recalled their traditions but in a modern framework. 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 remaking the vision of art in a thoroughly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the group that congregated in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its historical ways, but adapted to modern times. It was a fresh artistic expression, both introspective and joyous. Often it was an art that alluded to the many dimensions of Nigerian folklore; often it incorporated everyday life.

Deities, forefather spirits, ceremonies, traditional displays featured centrally, alongside popular subjects of moving forms, likenesses and scenes, but executed in a special light, with a visual language that was totally different from anything in the western tradition.

International Influences

It is crucial to highlight that these were not artists working in solitude. They were in touch with the trends of world art, as can be seen by the approaches to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a answer as such but a reclaiming, 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 seminal 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 societal conflicts. 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.

Modern Influence

Two important contemporary events bear this out. The eagerly expected opening of the art museum in the traditional capital 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 focus on Nigeria's role to the wider story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and artists in Britain have been a crucial 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 heritage endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the potential of global sculpture with his impressive works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who reimagined Nigerian craft and modern design. They have prolonged the story of Nigerian modernism into contemporary times, bringing about a regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Creative Perspectives

Regarding Musical Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not replicating anyone, but creating a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it produces something new out of history.

I was raised 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 compelling, 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 significant Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of newly commissioned work: art glass, engravings, monumental installations. It was a formative experience, showing me that art could narrate the history 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 divided 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 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 mock the idea of Nigerian or African art. We looked for representation wherever we could.

Artistic Political Expression

I loved encountering 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 guarded of not wanting to say too much when it came to politics. His music – a blend of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a musical backdrop and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically vocal and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Contemporary Manifestations

The artist who has influenced 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 adequate, and that I could build a career making work that is confidently personal.

I make representational art that investigate identity, memory and family, often drawing on my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with exploring history – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and transforming those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the skills to combine these experiences with my British identity, and that fusion became the vocabulary 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 diaspora artists finding their voices.

Cultural Heritage

Nigerians are, basically, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a innate motivation, a dedicated approach and a community that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our ambition is rooted in culture.

For me, poetry has been the primary 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 shared experiences while remaining deeply rooted in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how experimentation within tradition can produce new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage influences what I find most urgent in my work, navigating the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These intersecting experiences bring different priorities and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a space where these influences and outlooks melt together.