Mount Fuji isn't just a mountain. Not in Japan, anyway. For centuries, it’s been a god, a symbol of immortality, and the ultimate celebrity of the Japanese landscape. But if you’ve ever seen that massive, claw-like blue wave about to crash into some tiny wooden boats, you’ve already met the most famous part of Katsushika Hokusai’s 36 Views of Mt Fuji.
It’s weird to think about now, but when Hokusai started this series around 1830, he was basically an old man in his seventies. He was broke. His grandson had gambled away the family money. Most people his age were long retired or, honestly, dead. Instead, Hokusai decided to revolutionize Japanese art. He didn't just paint a mountain; he captured the soul of a nation during a time when Japan was strictly locked away from the rest of the world.
People often get confused by the title. There aren't actually 36 prints. Well, there were at first, but the series was so wildly popular that the publisher, Nishimuraya Yohachi, told Hokusai to keep going. He ended up making 46. So, the "36 Views" is kind of a misnomer that stuck because the original set was just that iconic.
The Prussian Blue Revolution
Before Hokusai, Japanese woodblock prints—known as ukiyo-e—were mostly about beautiful women, kabuki actors, or erotica. Landscape was usually just a background. Hokusai flipped the script. He made the land the protagonist.
But there’s a technical secret behind why these prints look so vibrant even today: Prussian Blue.
This was a synthetic pigment imported from Europe through Dutch traders (the only Westerners allowed in Japan at the time). Before this, Japanese artists used indigo, which was okay but tended to fade into a muddy grey over time. Prussian Blue was deep. It was electric. It stayed vivid. When you look at the sky in The Great Wave off Kanagawa or the deep water in Kajikazawa in Kai Province, you’re seeing a global trade secret hiding in plain sight.
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It’s fascinating because Hokusai used this "foreign" blue to depict the most "Japanese" symbol imaginable. It was a subtle bridge between a secluded Japan and the outside world.
Not Just a Pretty Peak
If you look through the entire collection of 36 Views of Mt Fuji, you’ll notice something strange. Fuji isn’t always the biggest thing in the frame. Sometimes it’s just a tiny white triangle in the distance, seen through the gap of a wooden frame or reflected in a lake.
Hokusai was obsessed with geometry. He loved circles and triangles. Take Fine Wind, Clear Morning (often called "Red Fuji"). It’s just a massive, earthy red triangle against a blue sky. It’s minimalist. It’s modern. It feels like something that could have been designed last week, not two centuries ago.
Then you have The Great Wave. Everyone knows the wave. But look closer. The curve of the wave perfectly mirrors the curve of the mountain in the background. The spray of the water looks like falling snow on the peak. Hokusai was playing with the idea that the permanent (the mountain) and the fleeting (the wave) are actually two sides of the same coin.
Life in the Edo Period
These prints are basically the Instagram of the 1830s. They show people doing everyday stuff.
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- In Hodogaya on the Tokaido, you see travelers walking past pine trees.
- In Inume Pass, Koshu, you see packhorses and travelers trudging up a hill.
- Fujimigahara in Owari Province shows a guy making a giant barrel. He’s literally inside the barrel, scraping the wood, and the circular frame of the barrel perfectly encircles a tiny Mount Fuji in the distance.
It’s cheeky. It’s human. It shows that while the mountain is sacred and eternal, life goes on for the woodcutter, the fisherman, and the merchant. Hokusai had this incredible ability to make the monumental feel personal.
Why the World Obsessed Over Them
Japan opened its borders in the 1850s, shortly after Hokusai died. Suddenly, these prints flooded into Europe. They were used as packing paper for ceramics because, at the time, they were seen as cheap, mass-produced souvenirs in Japan.
Imagine that. A Van Gogh or a Monet opening a crate of tea and finding a "Great Wave" print used as bubble wrap.
It blew their minds. Impressionists like Claude Monet and Edgar Degas started collecting them. Vincent van Gogh wrote to his brother Theo about the "extraordinary" quality of Hokusai’s lines. This movement was called Japonisme, and it fundamentally changed Western art. The flat colors, the bold outlines, and the weird perspectives all came directly from Hokusai’s playbook. Without these 36 views, the history of modern art would look completely different.
The Practical Legacy
Today, you can see these prints in the British Museum, the Met in New York, or the Sumida Hokusai Museum in Tokyo. But they aren't just museum pieces. They are everywhere—on your phone’s emoji keyboard (the wave emoji 🌊), on coffee mugs, and in streetwear collaborations.
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But there’s a catch. Because these are woodblock prints, there isn't just "one" original. Each time they carved the blocks and inked them, it was a new print. Some have better colors than others. Some have worn-down lines because the wood blocks started to degrade after thousands of strikes. If you ever find yourself looking at a real one in a gallery, check the edges of the lines. The sharper they are, the earlier the print was made.
How to Experience the 36 Views Today
You don't have to be an art historian to appreciate what Hokusai did. Honestly, the best way to get it is to go to the places he painted. Many of them are still there, though they look a lot different now.
- Visit Lake Kawaguchi. This is where Hokusai captured South Wind, Clear Sky. On a calm morning, you can see the "Upside-Down Fuji" reflected in the water. It’s still as quiet and haunting as he depicted it.
- Go to the Sumida Hokusai Museum. Located in Tokyo near where Hokusai was born, the building itself is a masterpiece of modern architecture. It’s the best place to see the technical side of how woodblock prints are actually made.
- Hike the Tokaido road. Some sections of the old road between Tokyo and Kyoto still exist. Walking through the cedar forests gives you a sense of the scale and the physical effort it took to see these views in the 19th century.
- Look for the geometry. Next time you’re taking a photo, try to find a "frame within a frame" like Hokusai did with the barrel maker. It changes how you see the world.
Hokusai once said that he didn't really understand how to draw until he was 73. He believed that if he lived to be 110, every dot and every line he made would be alive. He didn't make it to 110—he died at 88—but looking at 36 Views of Mt Fuji, it’s pretty clear he achieved that life he was looking for. The mountain is still there, and because of him, we’re still looking at it.
Actionable Insights for Enthusiasts
If you want to start a collection or just learn more, avoid the mass-produced posters you see in gift shops. Look for "re-strike" prints. These are made using traditional methods and hand-carved woodblocks, often by artisans in Kyoto or Tokyo who are keeping the craft alive. They aren't "originals" from the 1830s, but they use the same pigments and paper, giving you a much more authentic feel for the texture and depth of Hokusai's work. Also, check out the digital archives of the Metropolitan Museum of Art; they have high-resolution scans where you can zoom in so close you can see the grain of the woodblock on the paper.