🔗 Share this article

Some fundamental force was unleashed among Nigerian creatives in the years leading up to independence. The hundred-year rule of colonialism was nearing its end and the citizens of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and vibrant energy, were ready for a new future in which they would shape the nature of their lives.

Those who most articulated that double position, that contradiction of modernity and heritage, were artists in all their varieties. Artists across the country, in continuous dialogue with one another, produced works that recalled their cultural practices but in a contemporary 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 remaking the dream of art in a thoroughly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that assembled in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its ancient ways, but adjusted to modern times. It was a fresh artistic expression, both brooding and joyous. Often it was an art that hinted at the many dimensions of Nigerian mythology; often it incorporated common experiences.

Deities, ancestral presences, rituals, traditional displays featured prominently, alongside popular subjects of moving forms, representations and scenes, but executed in a special light, with a visual language that was completely different from anything in the western tradition.

Global Connections

It is important to emphasize that these were not artists working in solitude. They were in touch 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 reappropriation, of what cubism borrowed from Africa.

The other field in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement 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 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.

Modern Significance

Two significant contemporary events confirm this. The much-awaited 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 well-known 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, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have shaped the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The legacy persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the possibilities of global sculpture with his impressive works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who reimagined Nigerian craft and modern design. They have extended 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.

Practitioner Insights

Regarding Artistic Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a prime example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not imitating anyone, but producing a innovative style. 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 regular 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 important Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of specially produced work: colored glass, sculptures, impressive creations. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could convey the experience 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 divided 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 shaped my life but was never spoken about.

I grew up in Newcastle in the 70s and 80s, and there was no exposure to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would make fun of the idea of Nigerian or African art. We pursued representation wherever we could.

Artistic Activism

I loved encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, in colorful 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 call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently outspoken and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Current Forms

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 focus on family, domestic life and memory gave me the confidence to know that my own experiences were sufficient, and that I could build a career making work that is confidently personal.

I make representational art that explore identity, memory and family, often drawing on my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with examining the past – 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 fuse these experiences with my British identity, and that combination 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 generally neglected them. In the last five years or so, Nigeria's cultural presence has grown substantially. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young overseas artists finding their voices.

Cultural Tradition

Nigerians are, basically, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a innate motivation, a dedicated approach and a group that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our aspiration 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 common concerns while remaining strongly connected 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 duality of my heritage influences what I find most pressing in my work, managing 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 interests into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these influences and perspectives melt together.