🔗 Share this article

A certain primal force was unleashed among Nigerian creatives in the years preceding independence. The century-long rule of colonialism was nearing its end and the population of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and lively energy, were poised for a fresh chapter in which they would decide the framework of their lives.

Those who best expressed that dual stance, that paradox of modernity and tradition, were creators in all their forms. Creatives across the country, in continuous conversation with one another, produced works that recalled their traditions but in a modern 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 reinventing the dream 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 profound. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its traditional ways, but adapted to modern times. It was a innovative creative form, both contemplative and celebratory. Often it was an art that hinted at the many dimensions of Nigerian legend; often it drew upon daily realities.

Deities, traditional entities, practices, cultural performances featured prominently, alongside popular subjects of moving forms, portraits and vistas, but presented in a unique light, with a color scheme that was utterly unlike anything in the European art heritage.

Worldwide Exchanges

It is important to emphasize that these were not artists creating in isolation. They were in touch with the movements of world art, as can be seen by the reactions to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a reaction as such but a taking back, a recovery, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other domain 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 show a nation simmering 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.

Contemporary Significance

Two important contemporary events demonstrate 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 well-known 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 highlight Nigeria's input to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a essential part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who lived here during the Nigerian civil war and crafted 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 tradition 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 prolonged the story of Nigerian modernism into modern era, bringing about a revitalization not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Practitioner Perspectives

On Musical Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a prime example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not copying anyone, but developing a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it makes something fresh out of history.

I came of age 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 compelling, uplifting and intimately tied to Nigerian identity, and left a enduring impact 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 recently created work: art glass, carvings, impressive creations. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could convey the experience 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 affected 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 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 make fun of the idea of Nigerian or African art. We sought out representation wherever we could.

Musical Activism

I loved encountering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed shirtless, in dynamic costumes, and challenged authority. 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 boldly expressive and creative, something that feels even more pressing for my generation.

Modern 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 returning to roots. 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 boldly personal.

I make figurative paintings that investigate identity, memory and family, often drawing on 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 combine 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 discovering Black artists – specifically Nigerian ones – because art education largely ignored 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 diaspora artists finding their voices.

Artistic Tradition

Nigerians are, essentially, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a committed attitude and a group that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our drive 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 formative in showing how Nigerian writers can speak to shared experiences 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 dual nature of my heritage informs 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 priorities and interests into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these impacts and outlooks melt together.