A Spectrum Distinct from Anything in the Western World: The Way Nigerian Art Transformed Britain's Cultural Landscape

A certain primal vitality was set free among Nigerian artists in the years leading up to independence. The century-long reign of colonialism was nearing its end and the citizens of Nigeria, with its over 300 tribes and lively energy, were positioned for a different era in which they would decide the context of their lives.

Those who most articulated that complex situation, that contradiction of modernity and heritage, were artists in all their stripes. Creatives across the country, in continuous conversation with one another, created works that referenced their cultural practices but in a current 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 concept of art in a rigorously Nigerian context.

The effect 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 traditional ways, but adjusted to the present day. It was a fresh artistic expression, both introspective and celebratory. Often it was an art that alluded to the many facets of Nigerian legend; often it drew upon everyday life.

Deities, traditional entities, ceremonies, masquerades featured significantly, alongside popular subjects of dancing figures, likenesses and vistas, but rendered in a distinctive light, with a color scheme that was utterly different from anything in the Western artistic canon.

Worldwide Exchanges

It is essential to stress that these were not artists producing in isolation. 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 response as such but a taking back, a retrieval, of what cubism took from Africa.

The other field 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 show a nation bubbling 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.

Current Significance

Two significant contemporary events confirm this. The long-anticipated opening of the art museum in the historic center 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 forthcoming exhibition at Tate Modern in London, Nigerian Modernism, which aims to highlight Nigeria's input to the broader story of modern art and British culture. Nigerian authors and artists in Britain have been a vital part of that story, not least Ben Enwonwu, who resided here during the Nigerian civil war and sculpted Queen Elizabeth II in the 50s. For almost 100 years, artists such as Uzo Egonu, Demas Nwoko and Bruce Onobrakpeya have shaped the visual and cultural life of these isles.

The tradition persists with artists such as El Anatsui, who has expanded the opportunities of global sculpture with his large-scale works, and ceramicist Ladi Kwali, who transformed Nigerian craft and modern design. They have continued the story of Nigerian modernism into contemporary times, bringing about a regeneration not only in the art and literature of Africa but of Britain also.

Practitioner Perspectives

Regarding Artistic 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 entirely her own, not replicating anyone, but producing a fresh approach. That is what Nigerian modernism does too: it creates something fresh out of history.

I came of age 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, elevating and strongly linked to Nigerian identity, and left a memorable effect 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 newly commissioned work: stained glass, sculptures, large-scale works. It was a influential experience, showing me that art could tell the story 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 foundational 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 familiarity to Nigerian or British-Nigerian art or artists. My school friends would ridicule the idea of Nigerian or African art. We pursued representation wherever we could.

Musical Political Expression

I loved discovering Fela Kuti as a teenager – the way he performed without a shirt, in vibrant costumes, and confronted establishment. 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 fusion of jazz, funk and Yoruba rhythms – became a soundtrack and a rallying cry for resistance, and he taught me that Nigerians can be confidently vocal and creative, something that feels even more important for my generation.

Contemporary 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 finding belonging. Her emphasis 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 unapologetically personal.

I make human form works that explore identity, memory and family, often referencing 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 skills 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 encountering Black artists – specifically Nigerian ones – because art education mostly overlooked 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, essentially, driven individuals. I think that is why the diaspora is so productive in the creative space: a innate motivation, a strong work ethic and a network that backs one another. Being in the UK has given more access, but our ambition is grounded in culture.

For me, poetry has been the primary 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 firmly grounded 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 dual nature of my heritage informs what I find most pressing in my work, negotiating 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 curiosities into my poetry, which becomes a space where these effects and outlooks melt together.