🔗 Share this article

Some primal vitality was set free among Nigerian creatives in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year rule of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the population of Nigeria, with its numerous tribes and lively energy, were positioned for a new future in which they would determine the context of their lives.

Those who best expressed that complex situation, that contradiction of modernity and tradition, were artists in all their forms. Artists across the country, in continuous exchange with one another, created works that evoked their cultural practices 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 reimagining the concept 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 significant. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its traditional ways, but adjusted to contemporary life. It was a new art, both contemplative and joyous. Often it was an art that alluded to the many facets of Nigerian folklore; often it drew upon everyday life.

Deities, traditional entities, practices, cultural performances featured prominently, alongside common subjects of moving forms, likenesses and scenes, but presented in a special light, with a visual language that was completely distinct from anything in the Western artistic canon.

International Connections

It is crucial to highlight that these were not artists producing in seclusion. 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 retrieval, a recovery, of what cubism borrowed from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement 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 show a nation bubbling with energy and identity struggles. 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.

Modern Impact

Two significant contemporary events demonstrate this. The eagerly expected opening of the art museum in the ancient city 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 upcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to spotlight Nigeria's role to the broader 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 created Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have molded the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The heritage 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 reimagined 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 Insights

Regarding Musical Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She blended 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 produces 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, 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 landmark 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 developmental 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 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 separated my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a foundational moment for me – it articulated 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 familiarity to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would ridicule the idea of Nigerian or African art. We pursued representation wherever we could.

Artistic Activism

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, in vibrant costumes, and challenged authority. 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 inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently expressive 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 finding belonging. Her emphasis on family, domestic life and memory gave me the certainty to know that my own experiences were sufficient, and that I could build a career making work that is unapologetically personal.

I make figurative paintings that examine identity, memory and family, often using my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with looking backwards – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and converting 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 combination 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 generally neglected 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 diaspora artists finding their voices.

Artistic Heritage

Nigerians are, basically, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a natural drive, a dedicated approach and a group that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our ambition is based 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 shared experiences while remaining deeply rooted in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how exploration within tradition can generate new forms of expression.

The dual nature of my heritage shapes what I find most urgent in my work, negotiating the different elements of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These overlapping experiences bring different urgencies and interests into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these impacts and perspectives melt together.