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A certain primal energy was set free among Nigerian creatives in the years leading up to independence. The hundred-year reign of colonialism was coming to a close and the people of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and vibrant energy, were ready for a fresh chapter in which they would decide the context of their lives.

Those who most articulated that double position, that tension of contemporary life and custom, were artists in all their stripes. Practitioners across the country, in ongoing dialogue with one another, produced works that evoked their traditions 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 remaking the dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the collective that gathered in Lagos and showcased all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its ancient ways, but adapted to the present day. It was a new art, both introspective and celebratory. Often it was an art that suggested the many dimensions of Nigerian mythology; often it drew upon everyday life.

Deities, forefather spirits, ceremonies, masquerades featured centrally, alongside popular subjects of moving forms, representations and landscapes, but presented in a distinctive light, with a color scheme that was utterly distinct from anything in the western tradition.

Global Exchanges

It is important to emphasize that these were not artists creating in seclusion. They were in dialogue with the currents 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 recovery, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement manifested itself is in the Nigerian novel. Works such as Chinua Achebe's influential 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 societal conflicts. Christopher Okigbo wrote in Labyrinths, 1967, that "We carry in our worlds that flourish / Our worlds that have failed." But the reverse is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Modern Influence

Two important 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 significant event in African art since the notorious 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 spotlight Nigeria's contribution to the wider 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, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have shaped the visual and cultural 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 extended the story of Nigerian modernism into modern era, bringing about a regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Creative Insights

Regarding Musical Innovation

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not replicating anyone, but developing a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it makes something new 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 powerful, uplifting and strongly linked to Nigerian identity, and left a enduring impact 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 newly commissioned work: colored glass, sculptures, monumental installations. It was a formative 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 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 articulated a history that had molded 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 sought out representation wherever we could.

Artistic Social Commentary

I loved discovering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, in colorful costumes, and confronted establishment. I'd grown up with the idea that we always had to be very careful of not wanting to say too much when it came to politics. His music – a blend of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a accompaniment and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be boldly vocal and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Current Manifestations

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

I make human form works 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 fusion 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 considerably. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young international artists finding their voices.

Artistic Legacy

Nigerians are, fundamentally, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a natural drive, a dedicated approach and a network that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our drive is grounded in culture.

For me, poetry has been the main 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 firmly grounded in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how exploration within tradition can produce new forms of expression.

The duality of my heritage shapes what I find most pressing in my work, managing the multiple aspects of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These overlapping experiences bring different concerns and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a space where these influences and outlooks melt together.