British Museum

Life in the Roman empire was as mundane as life in 2024. ‘Legion’ tells the story of a single Roman soldier, recounting a life of hard work, ambition, disappointment and unreachable goals. Take out all the blood and swords, swap the marching for a commute from Stevenage, and it could be the life of any present day office worker.  Claudius Terentianus had hopes and ambitions. He wanted to be a great legionary in emperor Trajan’s army. But the legion wouldn't have him, so he had to settle for the lowly marines. Once in, he had to scramble for money and social connections to be promoted to the legion, where he found a life of endless marching and battles, surrounded by comrades with their own ambitions to join the cavalry or become a standard bearer. This show is full of stunning symbols of everyday life for Roman soldiers from across the empire. Red wool socks to protect against the rub of hobnailed leather sandals, purses holding a handful of silver coins, dice for gambling, letters home pleading for a new tunic. It’s just the drudgery of normal existence, same in 60AD as it is now. Battles, bloodshed and the spoils of war And amongst all that, symbols of war: gleaming bronze helmets, swords long rusted into their scabbards, a pile of near-fossilised chainmail. A curved cylinder is the only complete long shield in existence, replete with ornate linework and winged victories. It’s jaw dropping.  It wasn’t all blind, faceless obedience though. A crushed silver bust of emperor G

There was a lot of love in the last years of Michelangelo Buonarotti’s life. Already hugely successful, the Renaissance master dedicated his final decades to loving his god, his family, his friends, and serving his pope. The proof of that love is all over the walls of this intimate little visual biography of the final years of his life, filled with his drawings and letters and paintings by his followers.  The first love explored is that for his friend Tommaso de’ Cavalieri, a young nobleman he met when summoned to Rome to paint the ‘Last Judgement’ in the Sistine Chapel. Michelangelo sent Tommaso drawings of gorgeous idealised male nudes, muscular bodies writhing and twisting. He wrote him letters filled with romance: ‘I am insensible to sorrow or fear of death, while my memory of you endures.’ Sure, they might have been just friends, but I’ve never said anything like that to my mate Gaz. The implication is that there was more than just friendship at play here. Art historians have long speculated on Michelangelo’s sexuality – he died having never married or had children – but the British Museum is just awkwardly nudge-nudge wink-winking at it with these adoring letters and chalk nudes, rather than giving it a big celebratory exploration, which makes it all feel a bit too dark and secret to feel like a positive thing. Jaw-dropping, atmospheric, beautiful, powerful stuff The next love explored here is less physical and infinitely more spiritual. Vittoria Colonna was a religious