🔗 Share this article

A certain fundamental force was released among Nigerian practitioners in the years before independence. The hundred-year dominance of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the people of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and vibrant energy, were poised for a fresh chapter in which they would decide the nature of their lives.

Those who best expressed that complex situation, that contradiction of modernity and custom, were creators in all their varieties. Creatives across the country, in ongoing dialogue with one another, produced works that referenced their cultural practices but in a contemporary context. 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 reimagining the dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the group that congregated in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its traditional ways, but adapted to modern times. It was a new art, both contemplative and joyous. Often it was an art that hinted at the many dimensions of Nigerian folklore; often it referenced common experiences.

Ancestral beings, traditional entities, practices, cultural performances featured prominently, alongside common subjects of moving forms, likenesses and vistas, but presented in a special light, with a color scheme that was utterly different from anything in the Western artistic canon.

International Exchanges

It is crucial to highlight that these were not artists producing in isolation. They were in touch with the trends 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 reappropriation, of what cubism borrowed from Africa.

The other field 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 cultural tensions. 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 Impact

Two significant contemporary events confirm this. The much-awaited opening of the art museum in the historic center 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 forthcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to focus on Nigeria's role to the wider 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 created Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have shaped the visual and intellectual life of these isles.

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

Artist Viewpoints

On Musical Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not imitating anyone, but producing a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something new out of history.

I came of age 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 compelling, elevating and intimately tied 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: art glass, sculptures, monumental installations. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could narrate the history of a nation.

Written Impact

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 affected my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a foundational moment for me – it expressed 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 sought out representation wherever we could.

Artistic Political Expression

I loved encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed shirtless, in colorful costumes, and confronted establishment. 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 combination of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a soundtrack and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently outspoken and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Contemporary Expressions

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 returning to roots. 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 boldly personal.

I make representational art that investigate identity, memory and family, often using my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with examining the past – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and transforming those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the skills to fuse these experiences with my British identity, and that fusion became the vocabulary I use as an artist today.

It wasn't until my mid-20s that I began finding Black artists – specifically Nigerian ones – because art education mostly overlooked 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 international artists finding their voices.

Cultural Legacy

Nigerians are, basically, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a innate motivation, a dedicated approach and a group that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, 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 shared experiences while remaining strongly connected in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how exploration within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage shapes what I find most important 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 urgencies and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these influences and perspectives melt together.