🔗 Share this article

A certain primal force was set free among Nigerian creatives in the years preceding independence. The century-long reign of colonialism was nearing its end and the citizens of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and lively energy, were poised for a fresh chapter in which they would decide the context of their lives.

Those who most articulated that complex situation, that paradox of contemporary life and heritage, were artists in all their forms. Creatives across the country, in constant dialogue with one another, produced works that referenced their traditions but in a modern 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 reinventing the dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The effect 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 rediscover its historical ways, but adapted to contemporary life. It was a innovative creative form, both brooding and joyous. Often it was an art that suggested the many aspects of Nigerian folklore; often it incorporated everyday life.

Deities, traditional entities, ceremonies, cultural performances featured significantly, alongside popular subjects of dancing figures, likenesses and vistas, but presented in a special light, with a color scheme that was completely distinct from anything in the European art heritage.

Worldwide Influences

It is important to highlight that these were not artists producing in isolation. They were in touch with the currents 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 retrieval, a retrieval, of what cubism appropriated from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian modernism expressed 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 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 opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Current Significance

Two significant contemporary events confirm this. The much-awaited opening of the art museum in the traditional capital of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the single most important 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 upcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to highlight Nigeria's contribution to the larger 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 lived 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 influenced the artistic and intellectual life of these isles.

The legacy endures with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the opportunities of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed 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 Viewpoints

On Artistic Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not imitating anyone, but producing a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something innovative 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 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 important Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of recently created work: art glass, engravings, impressive creations. It was a formative 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 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 foundational moment for me – it expressed 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 exposure to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would ridicule the idea of Nigerian or African art. We looked for representation wherever we could.

Artistic Social Commentary

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed shirtless, in dynamic 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 blend of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a musical backdrop and a inspiration for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be unapologetically expressive and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Modern 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 finding belonging. Her emphasis on family, domestic life and memory gave me the confidence to know that my own experiences were enough, and that I could build a career making work that is boldly personal.

I make human form works that explore identity, memory and family, often using my own Nigerian-British heritage. My practice began with exploring history – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and translating those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the methods to blend 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 encountering 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 international artists finding their voices.

Artistic Heritage

Nigerians are, basically, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a innate motivation, a dedicated approach and a community that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, 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 common concerns while remaining firmly grounded in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how experimentation within tradition can produce new forms of expression.

The duality of my heritage informs what I find most pressing in my work, managing the different elements 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 space where these impacts and outlooks melt together.