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A certain fundamental vitality was set free among Nigerian practitioners in the years leading up to independence. The century-long dominance of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the population of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and ebullient energy, were positioned for a new future in which they would decide the context of their lives.

Those who best expressed that complex situation, that contradiction of contemporary life and tradition, were artists in all their varieties. Artists across the country, in constant exchange with one another, produced works that recalled their cultural practices but in a modern 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 reinventing the dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that assembled in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its traditional ways, but adjusted to modern times. It was a new art, both brooding and celebratory. Often it was an art that suggested the many facets of Nigerian folklore; often it drew upon daily realities.

Spirits, ancestral presences, practices, cultural performances featured significantly, alongside common subjects of moving forms, likenesses and scenes, but rendered in a unique light, with a color scheme that was totally unlike anything in the European art heritage.

International Exchanges

It is essential to stress that these were not artists creating 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 retrieval, a retrieval, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian modernism revealed 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 depict 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 notable 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 most significant 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 approaching exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to highlight Nigeria's input to the wider story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and artists in Britain have been a essential 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, figures such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have molded the visual and cultural life of these isles.

The legacy persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the opportunities of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who alchemised Nigerian craft and modern design. They have prolonged the story of Nigerian modernism into the present day, bringing about a revitalization not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Creative Viewpoints

On Artistic Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a prime example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not imitating anyone, but developing a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something innovative out of history.

I came of age 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 powerful, 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 landmark Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of newly commissioned work: art glass, carvings, 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 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 affected my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a pivotal 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 ridicule 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 confronted establishment. 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 accompaniment and a call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically expressive and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Modern 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 coming home. Her emphasis on family, domestic life and memory gave me the certainty to know that my own experiences were enough, and that I could build a career making work that is unapologetically personal.

I make figurative paintings that examine 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 translating those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the tools to fuse 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 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 substantially. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young international artists finding their voices.

Cultural Heritage

Nigerians are, essentially, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a innate motivation, a dedicated approach and a community that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our ambition 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 deeply rooted in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how exploration within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage shapes what I find most urgent in my work, managing the various facets 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 impacts and perspectives melt together.