Nigerian Modernism at Tate Modern: A Spectacular Journey in African Art

I felt such a rush of pride standing on a gallery floor at Tate Modern, surrounded by my uncle’s art. The late great sculptor and painter Ben Enwonwu is one of Africa’s most celebrated artists and his story took up a whole room at the incredible Nigerian Modernism exhibition. It showcased some of his best known works, like his Pan-African statement Black Culture, and his painting of the Yoruba princess Tutu, a masterpiece often touted as the ‘African Mona Lisa’.

It wasn’t just my uncle’s immense talent on display that filled me with elation. It was the feeling of being right at home in a space where I have often felt like ‘the other’. That sense of communion with artists who came from my birth country, places I lived as a kid, my father’s hometown. The exhibition attracted rave reviews as well as people from all over the world (I heard the opening night was possibly the biggest in Tate Modern history). I especially loved seeing so many visitors of African descent strutting with just the right amount of shakara (showing off). So fresh, so clean. 

I got chatting with a lady carrying a gorgeous bag that she picked up at a market in Ghana. ‘It’s one of a kind,’ she told me, smiling. I marvelled at its design and the artisanal brilliance that is widespread across the African continent — a legacy almost erased by colonialism. For so long, African art was stripped of its meaning and relevance in favour of European ideals and standards. I feel lucky to live at a time when this story is changing and that change is largely driven by Africans themselves across art, fashion, literature, music, film and sport.

The lady was telling her friend about one of Enwonwu’s paintings, describing the subjects (Odu Women) as female chiefs. ‘They’re not strictly chiefs,’ I corrected her, ‘Odu is an ancient society of women and the title is an honour for those who’ve achieved a certain status, so it’s equivalent to a chieftaincy in that sense.’ I added, ‘I’m an Odu woman myself.’ (You can read about that here)

I didn’t inform her that the painting was by my uncle or that my dad was instrumental in helping the arts movement that flourished after the Nigerian Civil War. My parents were big art collectors and we grew up surrounded by many of these names. Seeing all these pieces assembled together at Tate Modern, it was like discovering the likes of Uche Okeke and Obiora Udechukwu for the first time.

The exhibition took us on a journey from the founding of Nigeria through to the modern day. Artists who learned from Western modernist influences and then (as all artists do) adapted, broke rules, and created something infinitely and uniquely their own. We followed their trajectory through different schools and eras e.g. the Zaria Art Society, the Osogbo school, and the Nsukka arts renaissance.

I loved the curation of this show, weaving together different forms and perspectives to create something that felt both vast and intimate. There were quirky elements too, like the Rex Lawson album covers set to a brief soundtrack of his hip-swinging highlife music. The spectre of war and empire hovered throughout but it was the aliveness of this show that swept me away.

One of the standout arrangements was Bruce Onobrakpeya’s The Last Supper triptych with his 14 Stations of the Cross. I also loved the giant Susanne Wenger batik Mythos Oduduwa and got a print for peanuts in the gift shop sale. In the shop, I spotted a copy of Efuru by the late author Flora Nwapa. I could tell you that she was a family friend who I also called Auntie, but now I’m just showing off!

My sister and I visited Nigerian Modernism on the night of its closing party. We were tempted by the sound of Afrobeats coming from The Corner Bar at Tate, but after a long day out, we decided to head home. After all, we’d already feasted at the table of Bruce Onobrakpeya, got drunk on Clara Etso Ugbodada-Ngu’s palm wine seller, nodded to the drums of Yusuf Grillo, borrowed hairstyle inspiration via JD Okhai Ojeikere, danced with the masquerades of Ben Enwonwu. Who needs a real party after such a night to remember?

See glimpses from the show on my Instagram!

Nigerian Modernism ran from Oct 8, 2025-May 10, 2026 at Tate Modern, Bankside, SE1 9TG (Southwark tube, Blackfriars tube/rail). You can find the brochure as well as prints and other memorabilia online at Tate shop.