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Some primal force was released among Nigerian artists in the years before independence. The hundred-year rule of colonialism was nearing its end and the people of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and ebullient energy, were positioned for a new future in which they would determine the context of their lives.

Those who most clearly conveyed that complex situation, that paradox of contemporary life and tradition, were creators in all their forms. Artists across the country, in constant dialogue with one another, developed works that recalled their traditions 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 distinctly Nigerian context.

The impact 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 ancient ways, but adjusted to modern times. It was a new art, both brooding and joyous. Often it was an art that suggested the many aspects of Nigerian legend; often it referenced everyday life.

Deities, traditional entities, ceremonies, traditional displays featured prominently, alongside frequent subjects of moving forms, likenesses and scenes, but presented in a distinctive light, with a visual language that was totally different from anything in the western tradition.

Worldwide Influences

It is important to highlight that these were not artists working in solitude. They were in dialogue 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 retrieval, a recovery, of what cubism borrowed 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 fermenting 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.

Modern Impact

Two important contemporary events bear this out. The long-anticipated opening of the art museum in the traditional capital of Benin, MOWAA (Museum of West African Art), may be the most significant 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 focus on Nigeria's role to the wider story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian writers and creatives in Britain have been a essential 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, figures such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have molded the artistic and intellectual life of these isles.

The legacy persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has extended the potential of global sculpture with his impressive works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed 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.

Practitioner Perspectives

Regarding Artistic Creativity

For me, Sade Adu is a excellent example of the British-Nigerian artistic energy. She blended jazz, soul and pop into something that was distinctively personal, not copying anyone, but creating a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it makes something innovative out of history.

I came of age between Lagos and London, and used to pay repeated visits to Lagos's National Museum, which is where I first saw Ben Enwonwu's sculpture Anyanwu. It was powerful, uplifting and strongly linked to Nigerian identity, and left a lasting impression 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 convey the experience of a nation.

Written 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 seminal moment for me – it gave voice to a history that had influenced my life but was never spoken about.

I grew up in Newcastle in the 70s and 80s, and there was no access 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.

Musical Social Commentary

I loved finding Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed bare-chested, in vibrant costumes, and spoke truth to power. 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 boldly outspoken and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Contemporary Manifestations

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 assurance 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 investigate 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 transforming 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 combination became the vocabulary 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 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 international artists finding their voices.

Cultural Tradition

Nigerians are, fundamentally, hustlers. I think that is why the diaspora is so prolific in the creative space: a inherent ambition, a dedicated approach and a group that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more exposure, but our aspiration is based 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 universal themes while remaining strongly connected 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 dual nature of my heritage informs 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 overlapping experiences bring different priorities and interests into my poetry, which becomes a space where these influences and perspectives melt together.