🔗 Share this article

A certain fundamental vitality was released among Nigerian artists in the years before independence. The century-long reign of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the citizens of Nigeria, with its more than three hundred tribes and ebullient energy, were poised for a different era in which they would shape the context of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that double position, that contradiction of modernity and custom, were creators in all their forms. Practitioners across the country, in continuous exchange with one another, created works that recalled their traditions but in a contemporary context. 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 concept of art in a thoroughly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that congregated in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was deep. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its ancient ways, but modified to modern times. It was a new art, both contemplative and celebratory. Often it was an art that suggested the many dimensions of Nigerian folklore; often it incorporated common experiences.

Spirits, forefather spirits, rituals, traditional displays featured prominently, alongside frequent subjects of moving forms, likenesses and vistas, but rendered in a special light, with a visual language that was utterly different from anything in the western tradition.

Worldwide Exchanges

It is crucial to emphasize that these were not artists producing in seclusion. They were in dialogue with the trends 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 taking back, a recovery, of what cubism appropriated 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 seminal Things Fall Apart, Wole Soyinka's The Interpreters and Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard are all works that portray a nation fermenting 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.

Current Influence

Two notable 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 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 spotlight Nigeria's role to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and creatives in Britain have been a vital part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who resided here during the Nigerian civil war and crafted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have influenced the artistic and cultural life of these isles.

The heritage continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the opportunities of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed 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 Perspectives

Regarding Artistic Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a prime example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not copying anyone, but creating a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something fresh out of history.

I grew up 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 powerful, 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 significant Festival of Black Arts and Culture, and the National Theatre in Lagos was full of newly commissioned work: stained glass, engravings, large-scale works. 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 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 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 mock the idea of Nigerian or African art. We sought out representation wherever we could.

Musical Social Commentary

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, in dynamic costumes, and confronted establishment. 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 fusion 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 vocal and creative, something that feels even more urgent for my generation.

Modern Expressions

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 confidence to know that my own experiences were enough, and that I could build a career making work that is unapologetically 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 transforming those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the tools to blend 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 overseas artists finding their voices.

Cultural Tradition

Nigerians are, essentially, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a natural drive, a strong work ethic and a group that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our aspiration 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 formative 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 innovation within tradition can produce new forms of expression.

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