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A certain fundamental vitality was set free among Nigerian practitioners in the years leading up to independence. The century-long rule of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the people of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and ebullient energy, were ready for a new future in which they would decide the context of their lives.

Those who best expressed that double position, that paradox of modernity and custom, were artists in all their forms. Practitioners across the country, in continuous exchange with one another, produced works that recalled their traditions but in a modern framework. 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 dream of art in a rigorously Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that gathered in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its historical ways, but adapted to contemporary life. It was a new art, both introspective and joyous. Often it was an art that suggested the many dimensions of Nigerian mythology; often it referenced everyday life.

Ancestral beings, traditional entities, rituals, traditional displays featured centrally, alongside common subjects of dancing figures, likenesses and scenes, but rendered in a special light, with a palette that was completely unlike anything in the Western artistic canon.

Worldwide Exchanges

It is essential to highlight that these were not artists working in isolation. They were in dialogue with the movements 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 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 show a nation fermenting 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 reverse is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Current Impact

Two important contemporary events confirm this. The much-awaited opening of the art museum in the ancient city 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 highlight Nigeria's contribution to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a essential part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who lived here during the Nigerian civil war and crafted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have molded the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The tradition persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the opportunities of global sculpture with his monumental works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who alchemised 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.

Artist Perspectives

On Artistic Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not imitating anyone, but creating a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something new 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, elevating and intimately tied to Nigerian identity, and left a memorable effect 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, engravings, impressive creations. 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 pivotal 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 familiarity to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would ridicule the idea of Nigerian or African art. We sought out representation wherever we could.

Musical Political Expression

I loved discovering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in colorful costumes, and confronted establishment. 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 accompaniment and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be boldly expressive and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Contemporary Forms

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 finding belonging. Her emphasis 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 human form works 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 converting those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the methods 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 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.

Artistic Tradition

Nigerians are, essentially, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a innate motivation, a dedicated approach and a network that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our aspiration is based 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 influential in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to shared experiences while remaining strongly connected in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how exploration within tradition can generate new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage influences what I find most important in my work, negotiating the different elements of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These overlapping experiences bring different priorities and interests into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these influences and viewpoints melt together.