An Afternoon at the Samurai Exhibition

In my February newsletter, I said I would share some thoughts on the Samurai exhibition at the British Museum. I went on a sunny Tuesday afternoon in March and really enjoyed it. The exhibition runs until 4 May 2026 and is well worth seeing.

Atmosphere

The first thing I noticed was how intimate the space felt. The lighting was low and soft, and at times it was as if I was walking beneath a dark, open sky. Subtle purple and blue tones from a film projection in one of the first rooms added to this atmosphere.

There was a wide range of objects on display, from scrolls and painted screens to masks, costumes, woodblock prints, armour, swords and ceramics. Each one held enough detail to keep my attention. The more I looked, the more I began to notice.

It quickly became clear that this exhibition wasn’t something I could take in all at once. I’d like to return before it closes in May.

Despite the vast number of objects, nothing felt cluttered. Each piece was given enough space to breathe. Subtle design choices, including fabrics draped in certain areas, softened the gallery and gave it a sense of calm.

The Art of Armour

As I stepped into the gallery, a suit of armour from the 17th century caught my attention.

A gold dragon crest sat at the front of the helmet, with large, feather-like forms extending from the back. The craftsmanship was exquisite, but I wondered how a samurai would actually move in something like this. Wouldn’t such heavy, decorative details slow him down, and make him more visible to his enemies?

Perhaps that was the point.

There was a theatricality to this armour that reminded me of Kabuki. Rather than concealing the body, it seemed to present it. In contrast to modern-day camouflage, the samurai asserts himself through these striking visual details.

Made from iron, silk, leather, lacquer and gold, the armour dates back to the Edo period, a time when the samurai had become the ruling class. What became clear across the exhibition is that the samurai were far more than the familiar image of the sword-wielding warrior. Over the course of nearly a thousand years, they took on many roles, as political figures, administrators, and patrons of the arts, with interests that extended into poetry, theatre and refined cultural life.

Boy Beauty

One of my favourite pieces from the exhibition is this hanging scroll of a young man seated on a bench. Painted by Katsushika Hokusai in the 1840s, it captures the androgynous beauty of a youth in quiet contemplation. The empty background accentuates this moment of solitude, and focuses attention on the details of his elaborate silk kimono.

The figure has taken off one of his sandals and tabi socks, which you can see beneath the cloth he’s holding. Could this suggest he is thinking of a romantic lover?

I admire the way Hokusai depicts his forlorn expression. He could easily be a character from The Tale of Genji. For a moment, I wasn’t sure whether I was looking at a man or a woman.

His shaved forelock gives a clue. In Edo-period Japan, young men known as wakashu often wore their hair in this way, marking a stage between childhood and adulthood.

They were admired for this kind of beauty, reflected in the delicacy of his features and the way he is composed.

There is a gracefulness in every element of this composition. Even the sword at his waist is depicted as an object of beauty, rather than violence.

Samurai Dandy

Of course, I was excited to find a small Kabuki section within the exhibition. One of the woodblock prints that caught my eye featured the actor Iwai Hanshirō V as Sukeroku.

Sukeroku is one of Kabuki’s most iconic characters. A stylish, swaggering figure who moves through the pleasure quarters of Edo with a kind of effortless confidence. He is quick-tongued, provocative, and always ready for a fight, yet beneath this bravado lies a deeper purpose.

Disguised as a carefree townsman, he is in fact searching for a stolen sword, a quest tied to avenging his father’s death. This tension between surface and intention gives the character his particular energy.

What struck me in the print was how this strength is expressed. He stands beneath a canopy of cherry blossoms, holding his umbrella with a kind of ease. His kimono is richly patterned, his obi carefully arranged, and even the height of his geta gives him a slightly elevated, stylised presence.

There is nothing concealed here. The figure is composed, deliberate, and highly aware of how he is seen. Strength is expressed through elegance, ornament, and display.

In that sense, it doesn’t feel so distant from the armour in the previous room. Both seem less concerned with practicality than with presence, a way of shaping how the body is seen.

Afterwards

There was hardly an object in the exhibition, whether a painted screen, a print, a piece of costume or a suit of armour, that didn’t carry some reference to nature.

You begin to notice it everywhere, in the patterns, the materials, the smallest details.