The Playful Secrets of Hokusai in 'The Great Wave'

It has been only a few months since Japan's new banknotes were issued in July. The 1,000 yen bill featuring medical scientist Shibasaburo Kitasato is becoming more common. Notably, on its backside is an image of a great wave and Mount Fuji painted by Edo-period ukiyo-e artist Katsushika Hokusai. Known internationally as The Great Wave, this image is widely considered the most popular ukiyo-e print.

Hokusai also added a playful touch to this artwork. While it was obvious to Edo-period locals 200 years ago, this hidden detail is now often overlooked, even in Japan.

With the iconic The Great Wave off Kanagawa now featured on the new banknote, it's a great time to revisit and unravel the hidden mysteries of the masterpiece.

*New banknotes depicting Hokusai's "Great Wave" at the National Printing Bureau Tokyo Plant in Kita Ward, Tokyo on June 19. (©Sankei by Takumi Kamoshida)*

Edo Bay: The True Location of Hokusai's Iconic Wave

Many people mistake the location of this artwork, often thinking it depicts Sagami Bay. This misconception persists despite the phrase "Off Kanagawa" being clearly written on the left edge of the print.

Actually, the scene is set off modern-day Yokohama, placing it within Tokyo (Edo) Bay. However, the dramatic waves evoke the vastness of the Pacific Ocean, which seems to draw attention away from the "Off Kanagawa" label.

Art critics frequently praise the striking contrast between the dynamic waves in the foreground and the serene Mount Fuji in the background. While this aspect of the composition is remarkable, Hokusai would be disappointed if this were the only way people appreciated his work.

High-Speed Boats with Eight Oars

This artwork is in fact an ukiyo-e print celebrating the first catch of bonito (hatsu gatsuo). To spot Hokusai's playful touch, focus on the three boats in the scene. These aren't boats for sightseeing around the waves and Mount Fuji. Furthermore, the eight figures — four on each side — are actually rowers.

Hokusai specifically illustrated the oshokurisen, a high-speed boat used to transport fresh fish. Moreover, based on the direction of the boat's bow, it is heading toward the mouth of Edo (now Tokyo) Bay.

Edo locals also instantly recognized these boats. Everyone knew they were used to buy bonito near the Miura Peninsula at the mouth of the bay. This connection is also evident in the senryu (humorous haiku) of the time:

The first bonito of the season comes riding on a boat like a centipede. 

A lavish boat carrying just 75 bonito — how do they even make a profit?

The centipede-like boats refer to the oshokurisen, with their eight oars jutting out like centipede legs. However, the second haiku conveys sarcasm aimed at the extravagant price of the first bonito of the season — a highly coveted luxury item.

In late March 1812 (by the lunar calendar), a single fish sold for three ryō. That is equivalent to about ¥120,000 JPY ($845 USD) today.

*Nihonbashi Bridge in Edo, from the series Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji (©Ota Memorial Museum of Art Collection.)*

Seventy-Five More Days to Live

The reference to 75 bonito also plays on the Edo-period belief that eating the first catch would add 75 days to one's life. This ancient wisdom is cleverly woven into the haiku.

Bonito schools appear near Kyushu each early spring and travel northward along Japan's coast on the Kuroshio current. The first bonito, known as hatsu gatsuo, are caught around April (lunar calendar) when they reach the waters off Sagami and the Bōsō Peninsula during their migration.

The oshokurisen would set off from the Nihonbashi fish market at dawn. They would head to the fishing grounds off the Miura Peninsula to buy freshly caught bonito directly from the fishermen.

On the return journey, night would fall, and the rowers would navigate the dark waters using the North Star as their guide. They would arrive back at Nihonbashi before dawn, where eager fishmongers awaited. These vendors would rush into the streets of Edo, carrying their trays on their shoulders and calling out to sell the prized bonito.

By late April, the supply of bonito would increase. Though still expensive, the price would drop slightly, and the common folk eagerly awaited this time.

Colors of the Sea and Sky

Hokusai used the wave patterns and colors surrounding the oshokurisen as a metaphor for bonito (katsuo). The striped navy, blue, and light blue waves resemble a pattern called katsuo-jima, commonly seen on kimonos. In the Edo period, these stripes instantly evoked the image of bonito.

Despite being set within the bay, the scene features towering, dramatic waves. These waves symbolize the excitement of a bountiful first catch of bonito, capturing the bold and optimistic spirit of Edo locals. In the background, Mount Fuji's snow-capped peak indicates the early summer season.

The shape of the white clouds is also intriguing—on closer look, they form the character "大" (dai). This means "big" or "great," symbolizing a great catch.

The brownish tint of the sky is striking and accentuates the vivid blue of the sea. While some might see it as resembling a sky filled with yellow dust, the color likely symbolizes karashi miso (mustard miso) rather than dust.

Plum blossoms with nightingales, bonito with mustard.

As the old poem suggests, in the Edo period, bonito sashimi was enjoyed with mustard miso.

*Under the wave off Kanagawa (‘The Great Wave’), from the series Thirty-six Views of Mt Fuji Katsushika Hokusai Color woodblock print. (This print © The Trustees of the British Museum)*

A Masterpiece of Indirect Representation

Bringing all these elements together, it's clear how Hokusai's masterpiece deeply resonated with the spirit of Edo locals. Edoites valued seasonal flavors and the enjoyment of bonito without worrying about the cost.

Also, Edo art often employed a technique called rusumoyō (absent or hidden subject). To fully appreciate the artwork required both knowledge and insight. This method captured the essence of the main subject by depicting related objects instead of the subject itself.

For instance, some sword guards (tsuba) feature only a sea bream and a fishing rod. These represent Ebisu, the god of prosperity. Another example is the artwork Fujimi Saigyō. Mount Fuji appears in the background, while a hat and walking stick lie on the ground in the foreground. They symbolize the absent presence of the poet Saigyō.

The main subject is missing from the design, hence the term "rusumoyō." In fact, Hokusai's masterpiece The Great Wave off Kanagawa employs this technique to indirectly represent the first bonito of the season.

Author's Interpretation

As a side note, the theory that The Great Wave represents an "absent subject design of the first bonito" is not drawn from any citations or references. It's a conclusion I reached through my own interpretation of the artwork, influenced by my study of fishing history.

I first introduced this idea briefly in 2016. Now, with the artwork appearing daily on new banknotes, it is the right time to provide a more detailed explanation. I hope this article offers new perspectives and insights to Hokusai fans around the world.

(Read the column in Japanese.)

Author: Shohei Nagatsuji