🔗 Share this article

Some raw energy was released among Nigerian artists in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year rule of colonialism was coming to a close and the population of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and lively energy, were positioned for a new future in which they would decide the framework of their lives.

Those who best expressed that dual stance, that contradiction of modernity and heritage, were creators in all their varieties. Creatives across the country, in ongoing conversation with one another, developed works that evoked their cultural practices but in a contemporary context. 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 reimagining the vision of art in a rigorously Nigerian context.

The effect of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that assembled in Lagos and displayed all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to reconnect its ancient ways, but adapted to modern times. It was a new art, both introspective and celebratory. Often it was an art that alluded to the many facets of Nigerian mythology; often it referenced everyday life.

Spirits, ancestral presences, rituals, cultural performances featured prominently, alongside popular subjects of moving forms, representations and landscapes, but presented in a unique light, with a visual language that was utterly distinct from anything in the Western artistic canon.

Global Influences

It is important to emphasize that these were not artists producing in seclusion. They were in touch with the movements of world art, as can be seen by the responses to cubism in many works of sculpture. It was not a answer as such but a reclaiming, a reappropriation, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other field in which this Nigerian modernism 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 bubbling with energy and cultural tensions. 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 Influence

Two notable contemporary events confirm this. The long-anticipated 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 approaching exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to focus on Nigeria's input to the wider story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and creatives in Britain have been a crucial part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who sojourned here during the Nigerian civil war and crafted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have molded the artistic and intellectual life of these isles.

The heritage persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the potential of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who alchemised Nigerian craft and modern design. They have prolonged the story of Nigerian modernism into modern era, bringing about a renewal not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Artist Perspectives

About Artistic Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a perfect example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She fused jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not imitating anyone, but creating a new sound. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something innovative out of history.

I came of age 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, inspiring 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 recently created work: colored glass, carvings, monumental installations. It was a formative experience, showing me that art could narrate the history of a nation.

Literary Influence

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 divided my family. My parents never spoke about it, so reading that book in 2006 was a pivotal 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 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 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 guarded 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 call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently expressive and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Modern Forms

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 finding belonging. Her emphasis on family, domestic life and memory gave me the assurance to know that my own experiences were sufficient, 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 examining the past – at family photographs, Nigerian parties, rich fabrics – and transforming those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the skills to blend these experiences with my British identity, and that blending 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 considerably. Afrobeats went global around a decade ago, and the visual arts followed, with young diaspora artists finding their voices.

Cultural Heritage

Nigerians are, essentially, hard workers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a natural drive, a committed attitude and a community that encourages one another. Being in the UK has given more opportunity, but our ambition 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 strongly connected in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how exploration within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage influences what I find most important 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 outlooks melt together.