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A certain raw force was set free among Nigerian creatives in the years before independence. The hundred-year dominance of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the population of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and ebullient energy, were positioned for a different era in which they would decide 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. Artists across the country, in continuous exchange with one another, created works that referenced 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 reimagining the vision of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that congregated in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its historical ways, but adjusted to the present day. It was a innovative creative form, both contemplative and festive. Often it was an art that hinted at the many facets of Nigerian legend; often it drew upon daily realities.

Deities, ancestral presences, rituals, masquerades featured prominently, alongside popular subjects of rhythmic shapes, portraits and landscapes, but rendered in a distinctive light, with a color scheme that was completely unlike anything in the European art heritage.

International Connections

It is crucial to stress that these were not artists creating in solitude. They were in dialogue with the trends of world art, as can be seen by the reactions to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a response as such but a retrieval, a retrieval, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian modernism 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 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 Significance

Two important contemporary events confirm this. The much-awaited 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 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 focus on Nigeria's input to the wider story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a crucial part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who resided here during the Nigerian civil war and sculpted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the artistic and intellectual life of these isles.

The legacy endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the potential of global sculpture with his monumental works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have continued 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.

Practitioner Viewpoints

On Artistic Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not replicating anyone, but developing a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it produces something fresh 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 compelling, elevating 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: stained glass, engravings, large-scale works. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could narrate the history of a nation.

Literary 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 affected my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a foundational moment for me – it gave voice to 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 mock the idea of Nigerian or African art. We sought out representation wherever we could.

Artistic Social Commentary

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in dynamic 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 call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently 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 certainty to know that my own experiences were enough, and that I could build a career making work that is unapologetically personal.

I make human form works that examine identity, memory and family, often referencing 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 methods to combine these experiences with my British identity, and that blending became the language 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 largely ignored them. In the last five years or so, Nigeria's cultural presence has grown considerably. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young overseas artists finding their voices.

Artistic Heritage

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a natural drive, a dedicated approach and a community that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our drive 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 common concerns while remaining firmly grounded 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 dual nature of my heritage informs what I find most important in my work, negotiating the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different concerns and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these impacts and viewpoints melt together.