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Some fundamental force was unleashed among Nigerian practitioners in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year rule of colonialism was coming to a close and the population of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and lively energy, were ready for a different era in which they would determine the context of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that dual stance, that paradox of modernity and tradition, were artists in all their varieties. Practitioners across the country, in constant dialogue with one another, developed works that recalled their cultural practices but in a contemporary 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 concept of art in a thoroughly Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that congregated in Lagos and showcased all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its ancient ways, but adjusted to contemporary life. It was a new art, both contemplative and festive. Often it was an art that alluded to the many dimensions of Nigerian legend; often it referenced common experiences.

Spirits, ancestral presences, practices, masquerades featured centrally, alongside common subjects of rhythmic shapes, portraits and scenes, but rendered in a special light, with a visual language that was completely distinct from anything in the western tradition.

Worldwide Connections

It is important to highlight that these were not artists working in seclusion. They were in dialogue 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 retrieval, a retrieval, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other field in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement expressed 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 show a nation simmering 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 opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Modern 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 notorious 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 crucial part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who sojourned here during the Nigerian civil war and sculpted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The tradition endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the opportunities of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have continued 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.

Creative Insights

On Musical Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not imitating anyone, but creating a new sound. 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 repeated 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 landmark Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of recently created work: art glass, sculptures, 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 expressed 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 access 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 Activism

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 cautious 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 unapologetically expressive and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Current Expressions

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 coming home. Her concentration 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 unapologetically personal.

I make representational art that investigate identity, memory and family, often using my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with looking backwards – 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 blend these experiences with my British identity, and that combination became the expression 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 generally neglected them. In the last five years or so, Nigeria's cultural presence has grown substantially. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young overseas artists finding their voices.

Cultural Legacy

Nigerians are, essentially, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a natural drive, a dedicated approach and a community that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our aspiration is rooted 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 influential in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to universal themes while remaining deeply rooted in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how experimentation within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The duality of my heritage shapes what I find most important 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 priorities and interests into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these impacts and perspectives melt together.