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A certain primal energy was unleashed among Nigerian creatives in the years before independence. The hundred-year rule of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the people of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and lively energy, were poised for a new future in which they would decide the framework of their lives.

Those who best expressed that complex situation, that contradiction of contemporary life and tradition, were artists in all their forms. Practitioners across the country, in ongoing exchange with one another, created works that evoked their traditions but in a current 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 dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the group that assembled in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its traditional ways, but adjusted to contemporary life. It was a new art, both contemplative and festive. Often it was an art that suggested the many dimensions of Nigerian legend; often it incorporated daily realities.

Deities, forefather spirits, rituals, cultural performances featured significantly, alongside common subjects of dancing figures, likenesses and scenes, but rendered in a special light, with a palette that was completely distinct from anything in the European art heritage.

International Connections

It is essential to highlight that these were not artists working in isolation. They were in touch with the currents of world art, as can be seen by the approaches to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a response as such but a retrieval, a recovery, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other field in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement manifested 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 portray a nation simmering 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.

Modern Impact

Two notable contemporary events confirm this. The long-anticipated 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 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 focus on Nigeria's role to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors 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, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the visual and intellectual life of these isles.

The legacy 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 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.

Artist Viewpoints

About Musical Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not copying anyone, but creating a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something fresh out of history.

I grew up 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, elevating 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 important Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of newly commissioned work: stained glass, carvings, large-scale works. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Written Significance

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 gave voice to 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 access to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would make fun of the idea of Nigerian or African art. We pursued representation wherever we could.

Artistic Social Commentary

I loved encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed shirtless, 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 blend 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 vocal and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Modern 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 enough, and that I could build a career making work that is confidently personal.

I make representational art that explore identity, memory and family, often referencing 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 methods to blend these experiences with my British identity, and that blending became the expression I use as an artist today.

It wasn't until my mid-20s that I began encountering 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 overseas artists finding their voices.

Artistic Heritage

Nigerians are, basically, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a innate motivation, a dedicated approach and a community that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our aspiration is based 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 shared experiences while remaining strongly connected in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how innovation within tradition can produce new forms of expression.

The duality of my heritage shapes what I find most pressing in my work, managing the different elements of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These intersecting experiences bring different concerns and interests into my poetry, which becomes a space where these impacts and viewpoints melt together.