🔗 Share this article

Some fundamental vitality was set free among Nigerian artists in the years leading up to independence. The century-long reign of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the population of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and lively energy, were ready for a new future in which they would shape the nature of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that double position, that paradox of modernity and tradition, were artists in all their stripes. Artists across the country, in continuous exchange with one another, produced works that evoked their cultural practices but in a current framework. 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 concept of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that congregated in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its historical ways, but adapted to the present day. It was a new art, both brooding and celebratory. Often it was an art that alluded to the many aspects of Nigerian folklore; often it incorporated everyday life.

Deities, forefather spirits, rituals, traditional displays featured prominently, alongside frequent subjects of rhythmic shapes, likenesses and vistas, but rendered in a distinctive light, with a color scheme that was utterly unlike anything in the Western artistic canon.

Global Exchanges

It is important to stress that these were not artists producing in seclusion. They were in dialogue with the movements 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 taking back, a retrieval, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian modernism revealed 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 simmering 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.

Contemporary Significance

Two significant contemporary events bear this out. 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 forthcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to highlight Nigeria's input to the wider story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a crucial 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 influenced the visual and intellectual life of these isles.

The heritage continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the possibilities of global sculpture with his impressive works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed 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.

Practitioner Insights

About Artistic Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not copying anyone, but creating a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something new 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 compelling, uplifting and deeply connected to Nigerian identity, and left a lasting impression 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 specially produced work: stained glass, engravings, large-scale works. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could convey the experience of a nation.

Literary 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 expressed a history that had shaped 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 finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, 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 fusion of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a soundtrack and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically expressive and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Current Manifestations

The artist who has influenced 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 assurance to know that my own experiences were sufficient, and that I could build a career making work that is unapologetically personal.

I make representational art that explore identity, memory and family, often drawing on 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 skills to combine 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 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 Legacy

Nigerians are, essentially, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a innate motivation, a strong work ethic and a community that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our drive is rooted 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 developmental in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to shared experiences 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 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 concerns and inquiries into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these influences and viewpoints melt together.