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A certain raw force was released among Nigerian practitioners in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year rule of colonialism was nearing its end and the people of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and lively energy, were poised for a new future in which they would determine the context of their lives.

Those who most articulated that double position, that tension of modernity and heritage, were creators in all their stripes. Artists across the country, in continuous conversation with one another, developed works that referenced their traditions but in a contemporary 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 remaking the dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that congregated in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its ancient ways, but adjusted to contemporary life. It was a fresh artistic expression, both introspective and festive. Often it was an art that hinted at the many aspects of Nigerian legend; often it referenced everyday life.

Ancestral beings, traditional entities, rituals, cultural performances featured significantly, alongside common subjects of rhythmic shapes, likenesses and scenes, but presented in a distinctive light, with a color scheme that was totally different from anything in the Western artistic canon.

Worldwide Influences

It is essential to emphasize that these were not artists creating in isolation. They were in contact with the trends of world art, as can be seen by the approaches to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a reaction as such but a reclaiming, a reappropriation, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian modernism revealed 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 depict a nation simmering 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 reverse is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Current Impact

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 single most important 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 forthcoming 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 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, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have shaped the artistic and intellectual life of these isles.

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

Creative Perspectives

On Musical Creativity

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

I was raised 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 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 landmark 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 Impact

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

Artistic Social Commentary

I loved finding 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 musical backdrop and a call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically outspoken and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Current Forms

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 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 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 blend these experiences with my British identity, and that blending became the language 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 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.

Cultural Legacy

Nigerians are, essentially, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a strong work ethic and a network that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more access, 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 influential 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 produce new forms of expression.

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