Gyotaku: The Japanese Art Of Printing Fish

Gyotaku is a traditional Japanese form of fish printing that emerged in the mid-19th century. Originally used by fishermen as a way to record the size and appearance of their catch, the technique involves applying ink to a fish and pressing paper over it to create a detailed impression.

Over time, gyotaku has also developed into an art form in its own right. Artists have created incredibly detailed, realistic and colourful works using different inks, paints and printing techniques, capturing everything from the delicate texture of scales to the intricate shapes of fins and other features.

I first discovered gyotaku when I came across an Instagram reel featuring the work of Naoki Hayashi, and I was immediately inspired. Watching the ink being applied and then seeing the incredible detail that emerged was so fascinating to me.

It felt like something I absolutely had to try, and the timing was right, as my family was preparing for a trip to North Padre Island, TX, to visit family.

My Printmaking Kit

I brought ink, a few brushes, rice paper, and a shipping tube to keep everything together while we travelled, as well as plenty of paper towels and garbage bags for cleanup.

The paper was particularly important. I used thin rice paper on a roll, which meant I could cut or rip pieces to whatever size I needed. It was also easy to roll up and carry in the shipping tube, which made it much more practical for travelling than a stack of sheets.

For the brush, I used a fairly wide, flat brush so I could work quickly across the surface of the fish. I didn’t want to spend too much time applying the ink and risk it beginning to dry before I could get the paper onto the fish.

The ink was Japanese ink, thin enough to brush easily onto the fish & rinse off, but opaque enough to leave a good impression.

The Process

We like to fish from piers when we’re along the coast. The first night I brought my supplies with us, I caught a tiny pin perch and a small sand trout. (They were used as bait for the remainder of the night.)

The pin perch in particular was small, which made it a good place to start. I applied a thin layer of ink to the fish, laid the rice paper over it, and gently pressed it around its shape.

When I peeled the paper back, the print was a perfect image of the fish in front of me, scales and all. It was such a simple process, but seeing all of those details transferred onto the paper was remarkable.

I printed the same fish several times on one sheet, arranging the impressions so it looked like a small school of perch.

It was my first attempt, so I wasn’t really going for a perfect print. I was interested in understanding the process and seeing the potential.

The Redfish

Later in the trip, my partner arranged a boat trip for us. We were hoping to catch some larger trout or redfish to eat. It was a steady morning of reeling, and at the end we kept two large red drum and three speckled trout between us. My largest catch – a 24″ red drum – was the subject of my next print.

When we got off the boat, I pulled out my supplies. Our guide was more than accommodating and helped us get everything set up at the cleaning station so I could give it a try.

To capture the shape of the fish properly, the fins need to be positioned carefully so they can be included in the impression. The size of this fish made the print a bit more complicated, logistically, as a larger fish holds more water to it.

Any lingering water can interfere with the ink and leave marks on the paper. I found this particularly challenging around the pectoral fins, and you can see some watery splotches in my finished print.

If I were to do this again, I’d spend much more time drying the fish before applying the ink, particularly around the dorsal fins.

One of the things I love about printmaking is that you never quite know what you’ve made until you peel the paper back.

You can draw the image.

You can carve the block.

You can apply the ink.

But until the paper comes away, the finished image remains a mystery. This is also true in fish printing. Maybe I’m just a girl who loves the drama of the big reveal.

The print wasn’t perfect. There were the watery marks I mentioned, along with some variations in the ink and impression.

But I was pleased enough with it for a first shot.

A Note on Ethics

I want to acknowledge that I am not of Japanese heritage, and I can’t speak to the history, cultural significance, or traditions surrounding gyotaku. My understanding of the technique comes from learning about it as an artist, and I think it’s important to approach a traditional practice from another culture with respect and humility.

My approach to gyotaku is ultimately one of appreciation. I’m interested in the process as an artist and in the connection between the fish, the experience of catching it, and the resulting print. I’m not trying to represent myself as an authority on the tradition or its cultural history.

It is also important that the fish I print are ones that I intend to use or eat. I don’t catch fish specifically for the purpose of making a print, and I wouldn’t encourage someone else to do so. That means following local fishing regulations and limits, being mindful of conservation, and making sure the fish I work with are going to be used rather than wasted.

I’m still learning about gyotaku, including its history and cultural context, and I think that learning should be part of the process too. I’ve included links at the bottom of this post for anyone who wants to learn more about the history of gyotaku and the traditional process itself. I encourage you to start there if you’re interested in understanding the practice beyond my own experience with it.

What Happened to the Fish?

Fortunately, the ink washed off very easily.

I thanked my redfish, and we brought home our catch for an incredible meal that evening.

These prints were taken in 2023, and while I still haven’t figured out the best way to display them, they’ll be forever connected to a beloved place, a memorable day, a fishing trip with my love, and a meal that we shared with our family.