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A certain fundamental force was unleashed among Nigerian practitioners in the years leading up to independence. The century-long dominance of colonialism was coming to a close and the people of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and vibrant energy, were poised for a different era in which they would determine the context of their lives.

Those who most articulated that complex situation, that tension of modernity and custom, were artists in all their stripes. Practitioners across the country, in ongoing conversation with one another, created works that referenced 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 reimagining the concept of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that gathered in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its historical ways, but adapted to modern times. It was a fresh artistic expression, both introspective and joyous. Often it was an art that hinted at the many aspects of Nigerian folklore; often it referenced daily realities.

Spirits, ancestral presences, practices, cultural performances featured prominently, alongside popular subjects of moving forms, likenesses and landscapes, but rendered in a unique light, with a visual language that was totally distinct from anything in the European art heritage.

International Influences

It is crucial to emphasize that these were not artists creating in solitude. They were in contact with the currents of world art, as can be seen by the responses to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a reaction as such but a retrieval, a retrieval, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian modernism manifested 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 depict 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 contrary is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Current Influence

Two significant contemporary events demonstrate this. The long-anticipated 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 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 focus on Nigeria's input to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and creatives in Britain have been a vital part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who resided 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 influenced the visual and cultural life of these isles.

The tradition continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the possibilities of global sculpture with his monumental works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who reimagined Nigerian craft and modern design. They have prolonged 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.

Practitioner Perspectives

Regarding Musical Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not imitating anyone, but developing a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it produces something innovative out of history.

I grew up 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, uplifting and deeply connected to Nigerian identity, and left a memorable effect 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 specially produced work: stained glass, sculptures, monumental installations. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could convey the experience of a nation.

Literary Significance

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 pivotal 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 pursued representation wherever we could.

Musical Activism

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, in dynamic costumes, and challenged authority. 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 fusion of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a musical backdrop 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 Expressions

The artist who has influenced 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 focus on family, domestic life and memory gave me the confidence to know that my own experiences were enough, and that I could build a career making work that is boldly personal.

I make representational art that explore 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 translating 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 blending 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 substantially. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young overseas artists finding their voices.

Artistic Legacy

Nigerians are, fundamentally, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a innate motivation, a strong work ethic and a network that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, 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 influential in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to common concerns while remaining strongly connected in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how innovation within tradition can create new forms of expression.

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