🔗 Share this article

A certain primal force was set free 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 numerous tribes and vibrant energy, were positioned for a new future in which they would decide the framework of their lives.

Those who most articulated that complex situation, that contradiction of contemporary life and heritage, were creators in all their varieties. Practitioners across the country, in continuous exchange with one another, created works that evoked their traditions but in a modern 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 distinctly Nigerian context.

The impact of the works created by the Zaria Art Society, the group that assembled in Lagos and exhibited all over the world, was profound. Their work helped the nation to reestablish ties its traditional ways, but adapted to contemporary life. It was a fresh artistic expression, both contemplative and joyous. Often it was an art that hinted at the many dimensions of Nigerian legend; often it referenced everyday life.

Spirits, ancestral presences, ceremonies, traditional displays featured significantly, alongside popular subjects of rhythmic shapes, likenesses and landscapes, but presented in a unique light, with a color scheme that was totally unlike anything in the western tradition.

International Exchanges

It is essential to stress that these were not artists working in isolation. They were in contact 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 retrieval, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other domain in which this Nigerian contemporary art movement revealed 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 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 opposite is also true. We carry in our worlds that have failed, our worlds that flourish.

Modern Significance

Two important contemporary events bear this out. The much-awaited opening of the art museum in the ancient city of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the most crucial event in African art since the infamous 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 highlight Nigeria's contribution to the wider 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 resided here during the Nigerian civil war and created Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, individuals such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have shaped the visual and cultural life of these isles.

The legacy continues with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the opportunities of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who alchemised Nigerian craft and modern design. They have extended the story of Nigerian modernism into the present day, bringing about a revitalization not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Creative Perspectives

On Artistic Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian creative spirit. She combined jazz, soul and pop into something that was entirely her own, not imitating anyone, but producing a innovative style. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it makes something fresh 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 powerful, elevating 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: colored glass, sculptures, impressive creations. It was a developmental experience, showing me that art could narrate the history 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 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 shaped 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 mock 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 bare-chested, in colorful 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 soundtrack and a call to action for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be boldly vocal 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 returning to roots. Her focus on family, domestic life and memory gave me the certainty to know that my own experiences were sufficient, and that I could build a career making work that is confidently personal.

I make representational art that explore 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 translating those memories into paint. Studying British painting techniques and historic composition gave me the methods to combine these experiences with my British identity, and that blending became the expression 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 Tradition

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so abundant in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a strong work ethic and a group that encourages 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 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 create new forms of expression.

The twofold aspect of my heritage informs what I find most pressing 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 priorities and curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a realm where these effects and outlooks melt together.