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A certain primal vitality was unleashed among Nigerian creatives in the years leading up to independence. The century-long rule of colonialism was nearing its end and the people of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and vibrant energy, were positioned for a fresh chapter in which they would decide the nature of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that dual stance, that paradox of contemporary life and custom, were artists in all their forms. Artists across the country, in ongoing conversation with one another, created works that evoked their cultural practices but in a modern setting. 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 reinventing the vision of art in a thoroughly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that congregated in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its traditional ways, but adapted to modern times. It was a innovative creative form, both brooding and joyous. Often it was an art that hinted at the many dimensions of Nigerian mythology; often it incorporated everyday life.

Spirits, traditional entities, rituals, masquerades featured prominently, alongside popular subjects of moving forms, portraits and landscapes, but presented in a special light, with a palette that was completely unlike anything in the western tradition.

International Influences

It is important to emphasize that these were not artists working in seclusion. They were in contact 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 retrieval, of what cubism borrowed from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement 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 show a nation fermenting 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 opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Current Influence

Two significant contemporary events demonstrate 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 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 larger story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and artists in Britain have been a vital 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 visual and intellectual life of these isles.

The heritage continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the potential of global sculpture with his monumental works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have prolonged the story of Nigerian modernism into the present day, bringing about a regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Artist Perspectives

On Musical Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not copying anyone, but creating a innovative style. 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 regular visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was impactful, uplifting 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: colored glass, sculptures, monumental installations. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Written Influence

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 separated my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a seminal 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 access 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.

Musical Activism

I loved encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, in vibrant costumes, and challenged authority. 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 musical backdrop and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently outspoken and creative, something that feels even more pressing for my generation.

Current Manifestations

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 coming home. Her concentration 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 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 tools to fuse these experiences with my British identity, and that blending became the vocabulary 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, fundamentally, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a strong work ethic and a network that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our aspiration is rooted 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 developmental in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to universal themes while remaining firmly grounded in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how experimentation within tradition can generate new forms of expression.

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