🔗 Share this article

A certain raw energy was set free among Nigerian artists in the years leading up to independence. The century-long reign of colonialism was coming to a close and the citizens of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and lively energy, were poised for a new future in which they would determine the framework of their lives.

Those who most articulated that complex situation, that tension of modernity and custom, were creators in all their varieties. Artists across the country, in ongoing exchange with one another, developed works that evoked their traditions but in a current context. 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 concept of art in a rigorously Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that assembled in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its traditional ways, but modified to contemporary life. It was a new art, both introspective and festive. Often it was an art that alluded to the many dimensions of Nigerian mythology; often it incorporated everyday life.

Spirits, traditional entities, practices, masquerades featured centrally, alongside common subjects of dancing figures, portraits and vistas, but rendered in a unique light, with a palette that was completely different from anything in the western tradition.

International Influences

It is important to highlight that these were not artists creating in solitude. They were in dialogue 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 reclaiming, a reappropriation, of what cubism took from Africa.

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

Contemporary Significance

Two significant contemporary events confirm 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 crucial 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 contribution to the larger 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 sojourned here during the Nigerian civil war and created Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, figures such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have molded the visual and intellectual life of these isles.

The heritage persists 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 the present day, bringing about a revitalization not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Artist Viewpoints

Regarding Artistic 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 entirely her own, not replicating anyone, but producing 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 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 important Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of newly commissioned work: colored glass, sculptures, large-scale works. It was a formative experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Written Significance

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 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 influenced 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 sought out representation wherever we could.

Musical Activism

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in vibrant costumes, and confronted establishment. I'd grown up with the idea that we always had to be very cautious 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 rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be boldly vocal and creative, something that feels even more pressing 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 finding belonging. Her focus 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 unapologetically personal.

I make representational art that investigate identity, memory and family, often using 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 tools to blend 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 largely ignored 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 overseas artists finding their voices.

Cultural Legacy

Nigerians are, fundamentally, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a strong work ethic and a community that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our drive is grounded 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 deeply rooted in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how innovation within tradition can produce new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage informs what I find most important 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 urgencies and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a space where these influences and outlooks melt together.