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A certain fundamental energy was unleashed among Nigerian artists in the years preceding independence. The hundred-year rule of colonialism was approaching its conclusion and the people of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and ebullient energy, were poised for a new future in which they would decide the framework of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that double position, that tension of modernity and tradition, were creators in all their varieties. Creatives across the country, in ongoing dialogue with one another, produced works that evoked 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 remaking the dream of art in a distinctly Nigerian context.

The influence of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the generation that congregated in Lagos and showcased all over the world, was significant. Their work helped the nation to rediscover its traditional ways, but modified to modern times. It was a innovative creative form, both contemplative and festive. Often it was an art that suggested the many aspects of Nigerian legend; often it referenced everyday life.

Ancestral beings, traditional entities, practices, traditional displays featured significantly, alongside common subjects of moving forms, likenesses and landscapes, but rendered in a distinctive light, with a visual language that was utterly unlike anything in the Western artistic canon.

Worldwide Influences

It is essential to emphasize that these were not artists working in seclusion. They were in dialogue 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 retrieval, a reappropriation, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other area in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement revealed itself is in the Nigerian novel. Works such as Chinua Achebe's foundational Things Fall Apart, Wole Soyinka's The Interpreters and Amos Tutuola's The Palm-Wine Drinkard are all works that portray 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 reverse 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 well-known burning of African works of art by the British in that same city, in 1897.

The other is the forthcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to spotlight Nigeria's input to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and creatives in Britain have been a vital part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who sojourned here during the Nigerian civil war and sculpted 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 intellectual life of these isles.

The heritage continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has broadened the opportunities 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 regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Creative Viewpoints

On Musical Originality

For me, Sade Adu is a prime example of the British-Nigerian innovative approach. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was completely unique, not replicating anyone, but creating a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it produces something new 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 compelling, inspiring and intimately tied to Nigerian identity, and left a memorable effect 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: art glass, carvings, monumental installations. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could tell the story of a nation.

Literary 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 pivotal moment for me – it gave voice to a history that had shaped 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 make fun of the idea of Nigerian or African art. We looked for representation wherever we could.

Artistic Activism

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, 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 combination of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a soundtrack and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently expressive and creative, something that feels even more pressing for my generation.

Contemporary 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 confidence 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 investigate 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 skills to fuse 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 considerably. 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 abundant in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a dedicated approach and a community that supports one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our aspiration 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 shared experiences while remaining deeply rooted in their culture. Similarly, the work of Prof Molara Ogundipe and Gabriel Okara demonstrates how innovation within tradition can create new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage influences what I find most pressing in my work, managing the various facets of my identity. I am Nigerian, I am Black, I am British, I am a woman. These intersecting experiences bring different priorities and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a space where these effects and perspectives melt together.