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Some raw energy was unleashed among Nigerian artists in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year reign of colonialism was nearing its end and the population of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and ebullient energy, were ready for a new future in which they would decide the context of their lives.

Those who most articulated that double position, that contradiction of modernity and heritage, were creators in all their forms. Creatives across the country, in ongoing dialogue with one another, created works that recalled their cultural practices but in a contemporary 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 remaking the concept of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the group that gathered in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its ancient ways, but adjusted to the present day. It was a new art, both contemplative and celebratory. Often it was an art that hinted at the many aspects of Nigerian folklore; often it incorporated common experiences.

Spirits, ancestral presences, ceremonies, cultural performances featured significantly, alongside frequent subjects of rhythmic shapes, likenesses and scenes, but rendered in a distinctive light, with a palette that was utterly distinct from anything in the European art heritage.

Global Connections

It is important to emphasize that these were not artists creating in isolation. They were in contact 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 recovery, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement revealed 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 depict 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.

Contemporary Influence

Two important contemporary events confirm this. The eagerly expected 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 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 highlight Nigeria's input to the larger story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and creatives 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 shaped the visual and intellectual life of these isles.

The legacy endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the opportunities of global sculpture with his impressive works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have extended the story of Nigerian modernism into modern era, bringing about a regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Practitioner Insights

Regarding Musical Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not replicating anyone, but producing a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it produces something innovative 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, inspiring and intimately tied to Nigerian identity, and left a enduring impact 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 specially produced work: art glass, carvings, monumental installations. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Written Impact

If I had to choose one piece of Nigerian art which has impacted 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 seminal 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 make fun of the idea of Nigerian or African art. We looked for representation wherever we could.

Musical Social Commentary

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

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

I make figurative paintings that examine 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 translating those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the tools to combine these experiences with my British identity, and that fusion 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 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 Heritage

Nigerians are, basically, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a natural drive, a dedicated approach and a network that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, 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 influential in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to universal themes while remaining firmly grounded 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 twofold aspect of my heritage shapes what I find most important in my work, managing 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 curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these effects and perspectives melt together.