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Some raw force was set free among Nigerian creatives in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year reign of colonialism was nearing its end and the population of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and ebullient energy, were poised for a different era in which they would shape the framework of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that complex situation, that tension of contemporary life and tradition, were artists in all their forms. Artists across the country, in constant exchange with one another, produced works that evoked their traditions 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 remaking the dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the group that assembled in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its ancient ways, but adapted to the present day. It was a fresh artistic expression, both introspective and joyous. Often it was an art that alluded to the many aspects of Nigerian mythology; often it drew upon daily realities.

Deities, forefather spirits, practices, cultural performances featured centrally, alongside common subjects of rhythmic shapes, likenesses and vistas, but rendered in a special light, with a palette that was totally unlike anything in the western tradition.

Global Exchanges

It is crucial to stress that these were not artists producing in solitude. They were in touch with the currents of world art, as can be seen by the responses to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a response as such but a taking back, a recovery, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement expressed 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 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 Impact

Two significant contemporary events demonstrate this. The long-anticipated 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 infamous 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 authors and creatives in Britain have been a essential 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, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have molded the visual and cultural life of these isles.

The tradition endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the possibilities of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have prolonged the story of Nigerian modernism into contemporary times, bringing about a revitalization not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Creative Perspectives

On Artistic Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not imitating anyone, but developing a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something innovative out of history.

I came of age between Lagos and London, and used to pay frequent visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was powerful, uplifting and strongly linked to Nigerian identity, and left a memorable effect on me, even as a child. In 1977, when I was a teenager, Nigeria hosted the significant Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of newly commissioned work: stained glass, engravings, impressive creations. It was a formative 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 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 pivotal moment for me – it articulated 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 familiarity to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would mock the idea of Nigerian or African art. We looked for representation wherever we could.

Musical Activism

I loved discovering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, 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 fusion of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a soundtrack and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be boldly outspoken and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Current Expressions

The artist who has inspired 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 certainty to know that my own experiences were adequate, and that I could build a career making work that is confidently 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 converting those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the methods to fuse 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 generally neglected 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 international artists finding their voices.

Artistic Tradition

Nigerians are, essentially, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a natural drive, a committed attitude and a network that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more access, 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 developmental 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 create new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage shapes what I find most urgent in my work, navigating the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These connected experiences bring different priorities and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a arena where these influences and outlooks melt together.