![]() |
| 22-December-2025 |
Nigerian artists, both before and after independence from the British empire in 1960, fused artistic traditions of the Fulani-Hausa, Igbo, Yoruba and other Nigerian peoples with European art forms that the colonial power brought.
The results are dazzling, bringing sights of crowded, chaotic Nigerian cities and glimpses of cultural traditions to London, the imperial metropole. Sobering, too, where artists grappled with the pain of civil war and the trials of “development”.
Unlike many art galleries, the Tate Modern has loads of space. All the exhibits have room to breathe. The exhibition, which includes photos, films and documents as well as painting and sculpture, has been well curated.
I am no art critic, so here are a few bits from the information boards on display:
Nigerian modernism was not a single movement, but a variety of responses to the country’s shifting cultural and political identity. Nigeria was established as a British colony in 1914. By this time, prosperous African kingdoms and societies had been profoundly altered by decades of military campaigns and colonial exploitation.
Under British rule, artists continued to find innovative ways to express their own ideas, histories and imaginations. They embraced and rebelled against the colonial education system. Some created their own art societies and curriculums, while others travelled abroad in search of professional opportunities.
Below are my (amateur) photos of some of the exhibits I was most impressed by.
The first one is not an art work at all, but a photo that’s worth a thousand words about colonialism: the King of Benin, Oba Ovonramwen, in British captivity after the brutal invasion of Benin City in 1897. The Oba (“supreme being”) of the Benin Kingdom, is shackled, and guarded by two Hausa soldiers.
I have included two paintings by Ben Enwonwu (1917-1994), the first African modernist to gain international recognition. In the 1950s, Enwonwu worked as an art advisor to Nigeria’s colonial government, but recognised the constraints that colonialism placed on artistic expression.
He told the First International Congress of Negro Writers and Artists in Paris in 1956 that “when a country is suppressed by another politically, the native traditions of the art of the suppressed begin to die out”. His art sought to push back.
There’s a big section of the exhibition devoted to the Zaria Art Society, founded in 1958 at the Nigerian College of Arts, Science and Technology at Zaria in north-west Nigeria – and I’ve taken a photo of a painting by Jimo Akolo (1934-2023) who belonged to it.
The Zaria college’s courses largely disregarded African art, and the society came together to resist this Eurocentrism, to champion Pan-Africanism and – in the words of a manifesto written when independence was declared in 1960 – to create “a new culture for a new society”.
If you’re in London, or anywhere nearby, please do your best to get to the exhibition, which continues until May 2026. It’s not cheap – £18, with a £5 deal available for 16-25s – but you won’t be disappointed.
![]() |
| Obo Ovonramwen N’Ogbaisi on board the British yacht Ivy, on his way into exile in Calabar (1897). Photo by Jonathan Adagogo Green (1873-1905) |
![]() |
| Tutu (1974) by Ben Enwonwu, one of a series of three portraits of Yoruba women of royal Ife lineage |
![]() |
| Odu Women (1990) by Ben Enwonwu |
![]() |
| Fulani Horsemen (1962) by Jimo Akolo, a member of the Zaria Art Society who drew inspiration from Fulani, Hausa and Islamic art and architecture in northern Nigeria |
🔴This is likely to be my last post of the year. Best wishes for 2026 to all who are reading.










As a member of the Tate Gallery, I will certainly be paying a visit to see this lovely exhibition.
ReplyDelete