REVIEW OF THE WEEK: NIGERIAN MODERNISM

(Tate Modern, London SE1 until 10 May 2026)

How are traditions formed? What precedes them and what, in turn, can they inspire? These are some of the questions that Nigerian Modernism, curated by Osei Bonsu and Bilal Akkouche at Tate Modern, puts centre stage in a huge and distinctive show featuring work by over 50 artists created from the time of indirect British colonial rule to independence in October 1960 and beyond. 

As the curators write in the exhibition catalogue: “In the hopeful, anti-colonial climate of the 1950s and 60s, artists embraced African traditions, drawing from inherited and reimagined cultural forms as acts of creative resistance.” There are paintings by Africa’s most influential artist, Ben Enwonwu, and works by the Zaria Art Society collective, but many of the artists exhibited here may be unknown to the UK public, while all being important in framing a visual context to the country's postcolonial story. 

Figurative portraiture opens the show, with Akinola Lasekan’s depictions of Yoruba people in positions of power creating an impressive air of suspense. In the piece Ajaka of Owo (1944), a king descends from the sky while a group of men watch in astonishment. The painting references the myth of the Yoruba deity Obatala, who is said to have created humanity. The sky is painted in rich and vivid tones, giving the scene a sense of cinema. A similar energy is conveyed in his painting Yoruba Acrobatic Dance (1963), in which onlookers observe a dancer's curled body in the air. There’s much magical realism in Lasekan’s works, and something divine in his collision of the everyday with the fantastical.

Like many of his contemporaries, Nigerian artist and educator Aina Onabolu (1882-1963) studied in Europe and, upon his return to Nigeria, successfully lobbied for the formal teaching of art in Lagos secondary schools. This development had an impact on generations of Nigerian artists, including Enwonwu, whose works here are perhaps the most obviously influenced by European artistic methods. His portrait Tutu (1974) depicts a young Yoruba princess in deep and dark tones of brown and blue. Her gaze is full of reflection, while the position of her body appears regal.

In 1956, Enwonwu sculpted Elizabeth II and in 1960 was commissioned to create seven sculptures for the headquarters of the Daily Mirror. The long elegant figures he produced, some holding newspaper-like items resembling wings, are simple yet spellbinding and made the wooden carving and sculptural traditions of the Igbo people feel ultra-contemporary. 

A whole room in the gallery is dedicated to work by the Zaria Art Society, a group of artists formed in 1958 at the Nigerian College of Arts, Science and Technology (NCAST) in Zaria by Uche Okeke and Demas Nwoko. They and its nine other members were committed to Nigeria’s independence and opposed to the dominance of European art school ideas on artists in Africa. 

In October 1960, when Nigeria became independent, Okeke drew up a manifesto for the group, based around a “natural synthesis” – a bringing together – of European and indigenous Nigerian and African traditions, art forms and concepts. Though they were innovative in their motivations, the style of the group’s work on display at Tate still feels quite familiar. Yusuf Grillo’s stylised portraits from the 1960s recall cubism, with their geometric-esque figures in deep purples, blues and greens feeling both solemn and alive. Jimo Akolo’s Man Hanging from a Tree (1963) is an expressionist work made with textural and brush marks that make colour a central focus. 

Works by African artists have typically been marginalised in art history and there are works in the show that might have been viewed as primitive had they not been presented under the banner of this exhibition’s title. Many of the sculptures here are presented in such a way that they subvert the idea of an ethnographic object. Take the carved wooden palace door panels by the Yoruba sculptor Olowe of Ise (c1910-14), featuring a British travelling commissioner in a hammock and the Ogoga (king) of Ikere – a work of historical narrative and full of technical beauty. 

Elsewhere, spirituality, mythology and religion are explored in works such as Uche Okeke’s painting The Conflict (After Achebe), rendered here in menacing fiery pigment. The work, dating from 1965, is inspired by a scene in the celebrated Nigerian writer Chinua Achebe’s 1958 novel Things Fall Apart, which explores Christianity, ancestral spirits and sacred practices. 

Several rooms devoted to photographs of sculptural afro hair styles by JD’Okhai Ojeikere, and vinyl record sleeves from the music genre Highlife hanging on the wall, provide enjoyable encounters. There are also issues of Nigeria magazine in display cabinets, highlighting the country's media boom. 

However, modernism was catalysed by technological innovation and industrialisation so it would have been great to see exactly how Nigeria’s rapid post-independence urbanisation shaped art and cultural identity. There isn’t enough on show here that explicitly illustrates the influence of technology on Nigerian modernism.

Still, the exhibition is ambitious in all the right places. This isn’t a sprawling display curated out of duty, or sympathy for the under-historicised. It is an attempt to provide meaning and continuity – to situate Nigerian artistry within a broader global modernist narrative while asserting its own intellectual and aesthetic independence.