March weather in Britain see-saws between cold snaps, rain, and occasional glimpses of sun. In need of some warmth and colour, while walking near London Bridge, I was drawn by a bold poster whose sinuous illustration stood in sharp contrast to the industrial brick façade of the Tate Modern, formerly the Bankside power station.
The curvaceous feminine figure, twined against a background of gold and turquoise, is the Black Culture work of Nigerian painter and sculptor Ben Enwonwu MBE, arguably the most influential African artist of the 20th century.
This poster drew visitors to the exhibition Nigerian Modernism: Art and Independence, which showed from October 2025 ‒ the 65th anniversary of Nigeria’s independence from British colonial rule – to May 2026.
Over 200 works by some 50 artists skilled in media ranging from painting to pottery, textiles to sculpture, shed light on the period from pre-independence in 1960 to the following decades. In addition, items such as record covers and photographs of Lagos modernist architecture revealed a country reimagining itself.
While much of the art was optimistic and forward-looking, it also alluded to the Nigerian Civil War, which broke out a few years later. It was fought between the Nigerian government and the secessionist state of Biafra, which declared independence from Nigeria in 1967.
Multiple works were by Enwonwu, about whom researcher and curator Bea Gassmann de Sousa wrote in a Tate Paper that, unlike the Franco-Caribbean theorist Frantz Fanon, the artist “did not set out to systemically analyse his findings. Instead, his archive reveals that he was compelled by his need to create freely and, by his personal conscience, to use his privileged visibility as an African artist to resist colonisation in public.”
“He may have been a reluctant agitator in a politically charged time, but he nonetheless articulated what many of his contemporaries felt, and he made himself heard in a global setting.”
Ironically, a large photograph of the artist showed him working on a sculpture of the late Queen Elizabeth II in a loaned British studio.
This sculpture was commissioned in 1956 after Queen Elizabeth II’s visit to Nigeria, and Enwonwu completed it the following year. It’s considered a significant work that links modern African art with British royal portraiture, and can be viewed at the National Museum Lagos.
A particularly striking installation by this artist was a series of seven carved wooden figures that were commissioned for the Daily Mirror’s reception area at its newspaper headquarters at Holborn Circus in London. They were designed as a procession of figures holding huge open newspapers, similar to wings, representing news spreading worldwide.
Demas Nwoko’s Nigeria in 1959 depicted three rather listless-looking white colonial officers seated in the forefront, at a loss regarding their future roles, with independence on the horizon. Five Nigerian authorities-in-waiting, in traditional flowing robes and headgear, stood expectantly behind them.
Susanne Wenger’s batik indigo-dyed textile, with the design drawn using cassava starch, told the Yoruba creation story of Odudua, a mythical ancestor.
Wenger, also known as Adunni Olorisha, was an Austrian-Nigerian artist who, with local artists, developed a cooperative in the south-western city of Osogbo.
Wenger was a leading advocate for the preservation of the Osun-Osogbo sacred grove, established more than four centuries ago in honour of Osun, the goddess of rivers and fertility. The Osun River meanders through the protected area, which is now a Unesco World Heritage Site, with sanctuaries and shrines along its course.
Now back in South Africa, my framed poster of that vivacious nude is a reminder of a thought-provoking exhibition that shed light on the post-colonial African experience. Its art and ideas continue to resonate, encouraging me to deepen my understanding.
Images © Judy Bryant
