Nigerian Modernism in London: ‘A bold new language for art’

‘Young artists in a new nation, that’s what we are,’ wrote the impassioned twenty-something Uche Okeke in October 1960. ‘We must grow with the new Nigeria… [which] places huge responsibilities upon men and women in all walks of life, [but a] much heavier burden on the shoulders of contemporary artists. I’ve strong belief that with the dedication of our very beings to the cause of art… we shall triumph.’

Okeke penned these words in the manifesto for the Zaria Art Society, a radical collective he had recently co-founded at the Nigerian College of Arts, Science and Technology (NCAST) in the city of Zaria in northern Nigeria. The precise nature of the growth and dedication he demanded will be discussed below.

For now, let’s focus instead on the timing of Okeke’s manifesto, written as it was just days after Nigeria became independent from Britain. Political upheaval provided the backdrop to a period of extended artistic innovation in the years leading up to — and following — the country’s declaration of independence on 1 October 1960.

The art in question is widely referred to as Nigerian Modernism, and it’s the subject of a major new exhibition at Tate Modern in London. The show features 250 works from public and private collections worldwide, by artists such as Okeke, Jimoh Akolo, El Anatsui, Ben Enwonwu, Ladi Kwali and Bruce Onobrakpeya.

‘The output of these figures was quite diverse, but the common thread running through the exhibition is of artists synthesising different influences to generate a bold new language for art in Nigeria,’ says Osei Bonsu, Nigerian Modernism’s curator.

The country has a rich artistic heritage dating back to the terracotta Nok sculptures of ancient times, via the bronzes made in the Kingdom of Benin between the 15th and 18th centuries.

The British began establishing colonial interests in the area in the 1850s, and these were formalised in 1914 with the official creation of the Colony and Protectorate of Nigeria.

Ben Enwonwu, an artist sometimes described as the godfather of Nigerian Modernism, was born three years later. At school he was taught by Kenneth C. Murray, an English expatriate who had been given a supervisory role in art education nationwide by the colonial government.

In 1937, Murray organised a group exhibition at the Zwemmer Gallery in London, featuring work by the pick of Nigeria’s young artists. Enwonwu was among them, and he would maintain links with the UK throughout his life, going on to win a scholarship to study at the Slade School of Art. In the mid-1950s, he was even invited by Queen Elizabeth II to create a large bronze sculpture of her, which involved various sittings at Buckingham Palace. It formerly stood at the entrance to the Parliament Buildings in Lagos and is today in the city’s National Museum.

Enwonwu’s career went from strength to strength, and he held exhibitions on both sides of the Atlantic. ‘This was rare for African artists at that time,’ says Bonsu. ‘We shouldn’t consider him some kind of establishment figure, though. One of the interesting things about Enwonwu is the way he was educated in European techniques and styles, yet infused his work with African identity.’

Manifestations of this include his Degas-indebted paintings depicting the ritualistic dances and masquerades of the Igbo culture in which he was raised.

To a large extent, Enwonwu set an example for Okeke and the other founders of the Zaria Art Society. Nicknamed the ‘Zaria rebels’, these figures agitated for a change in the art curriculum at NCAST (and beyond), which at the time was defined by a European academic model, dismissing African cultural heritage as inferior.

At the heart of Okeke’s manifesto was the concept of ‘natural synthesis’. Essentially, this proposed a teaching programme that combined ideas, practices and techniques of both Western and indigenous Nigerian traditions.

In such a vein one might see the work of Ladi Kwali, a female ceramicist who synthesised the forms of ancestral Gwari pottery with glazes and high firing temperatures typically adopted in Europe.

Consider also the mural of the Stations of the Cross that Bruce Onobrakpeya painted in Saint Paul’s Church in the Ebute Metta neighbourhood of Lagos — as well as his subsequent prints of the same subject. The events are set in contemporary Nigeria, and biblical figures are dressed in the indigo-dyed adire clothing worn by women in the country’s Yoruba region.

‘We could easily have called the exhibition Nigerian Modernisms — plural,’ Bonsu says. ‘Many facets of artistic expression emerged in this period, and the work was in no way homogeneous. There are multiple stories to be told.’

This pluralism can partly be explained by the fact that Nigeria is a state inhabited by more than 250 ethnic groups, who speak some 500 native languages.

One of the standout stories being told at Tate Modern is that of the Mbari Artists’ and Writers’ Club. This was a centre for cultural activity founded in an erstwhile nightclub in the city of Ibadan in 1961. It became synonymous with the energy, optimism and exuberance pervading Nigeria in the years immediately after colonial rule — pervading, indeed, much of Africa, with dozens of countries gaining independence in the late 1950s and early 1960s.

The venue contained an art gallery and an open-air performance space, where the musician Fela Kuti (who later pioneered Afrobeat) played one of his first gigs, and the author Wole Soyinka (who went on to win the Nobel Prize for Literature) debuted one of his first plays, The Trials of Brother Jero.

The Mbari’s inaugural art exhibition paired work by Okeke with that of his friend Demas Nwoko. The club’s reputation grew fast — not just domestically but internationally — and artists who were enticed to show there subsequently included the African-American painter Jacob Lawrence, the Sudanese modernist Ibrahim El-Salahi and the esteemed German Expressionist Karl Schmidt-Rottluff.

The club was relatively short-lived, not surviving the outbreak of the Nigerian Civil War in in 1967. Lasting two-and-a-half years, this was sparked by the Igbo people’s (ultimately failed) attempt to secede as the Republic of Biafra.

As Tate’s exhibition makes clear, however, the conflict didn’t mark the end of Nigerian Modernism. Works from the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s will be on view. ‘The post-independence feeling of positivity and unity soon gave way to division,’ Bonsu says. But artists continued to ‘respond to Nigeria’s evolving political and social landscape in challenging ways’.

One well-known example was the embrace of Uli design by Okeke and several students and colleagues of his — such as Obiora Udechukwu and Ndidi Dike — at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka (UNN). Okeke started teaching art there after the civil war, and stayed for more than a decade.

A tradition of the Igbo people, Uli was an age-old graphic system consisting of lyrical lines and, in many cases, geometric forms such as zigzags and concentric circles. It had originated among women, who decorated their bodies in this way using temporary dyes, in preparation for important ceremonies and events. These women also adopted Uli motifs to adorn the walls of houses and shrines.

The tradition was dying out by the mid-20th century, only to be revived by the artists at UNN, who produced Uli-inspired paintings, drawings, ceramics and even graphic design. Okeke himself was Igbo, and the university is located in south-eastern Nigeria, in what had been secessionist territory. Uli’s rebirth at UNN in the 1970s is widely interpreted as an attempt to reassert Igbo cultural identity after defeat in the civil war.

It can be tempting to view the achievements of the Nigerian Modernists through a pan-African lens. Which is to say, in the context of what equivalent figures were doing elsewhere in the continent at the same time — modernist artists in other newly independent states such as Morocco, Sudan and Senegal.

Bonsu, however, is wary of such an approach: ‘The artists in Nigeria can — and, in my view, should — be located within specifically local traditions and networks. They made work at the country’s distinctively fraught intersection of colonialism and modernity, work [that ought] to be understood on its own terms.’

Nigerian Modernism is at Tate Modern from 8 October 2025 to 10 May 2026

1-54 London takes place at Somerset House, 16-19 October