Harley Van Hyning | Gnarly Harley | Ep. 983

When most fishing artists paint a trophy catch, they're working from a photograph or memory. But Harley Van Hyning, known as Gnarly Harley, takes an entirely different approach—he paints directly on the fish itself. In Destin, Florida, where emerald waters meet white sand beaches, this unique artist has mastered the ancient Japanese technique of gyotaku, creating stunning fish prints that capture every scale, fin ray, and anatomical detail of fresh catches. From 1,145-pound blue marlins to exotic species in the Maldives, Harley has traveled the world with canvas and acrylics, transforming dock encounters into museum-quality art. In this conversation, he reveals the technical challenges of printing fish in uncontrolled environments, shares wisdom from his mother who studied at London's Royal Academy, and explains why the biggest fish aren't always the most exciting to print.

Growing Up Between Art Galleries and Surf Fishing

Harley's artistic journey began before he could even articulate it. While other kindergarteners played with toys, he was drawing with crayons and paper—a natural inclination that would define his life. His mother, a formally trained artist who studied at Brighton School of Art and graduated from London's Royal Academy, provided constant exposure to the art world. Weekend trips weren't to amusement parks but to art galleries and festivals along Florida's panhandle. Meanwhile, his father, a special ops flight engineer with the Air Force's 20th squadron, instilled a different kind of passion—surf fishing at Navarre Beach. Those 5 a.m. trips in the back of an F-150, pompo rods bouncing in the bed, created the perfect storm of influences. Young Harley absorbed the formal techniques of hyper-realism from his mother while developing an intimate connection with ocean creatures through countless hours on the beach. Discover how childhood experiences shaped his unique art form at [12:35]

The Fish Printing Discovery That Changed Everything

In 2013, Harley needed artwork for his new place and remembered an older artist named Fred Fiser who displayed gyotaku prints at local seafood festivals. He purchased a reproduction tarpon print with a blemish—a humble beginning for what would become his life's work. The art form had fascinated him since art history classes, but seeing it in person sparked something deeper. He began experimenting immediately, printing every fish he could get his hands on. His mother, watching him create shirts with fish prints, delivered the blunt British encouragement that redirected his path: "Screw the bloody t-shirts, do more of this." That moment crystallized everything—his love for fish, his artistic training, his obsession with nature documentaries, and his technical skills. The traditional Japanese method used rice paper and black sumi ink to record catches in the 1800s, but Harley innovated with acrylics and color, using different weights of canvas and linen. Learn about his non-traditional techniques at [26:04]

The Technical Art of Fish Printing in Uncontrolled Environments

Unlike studio artists, Harley works in conditions that would frustrate most creators—on docks where wind blows, sun beats down, and fish temperature fluctuates wildly. The ideal conditions are shade, no wind, moderate humidity, and a freshly caught fish. But reality rarely cooperates. A tuna that's been on ice for six hours presents entirely different challenges than a wahoo just pulled from warm water. If the fish is too cold, paint won't adhere to the scales. If it's too warm, the medium sticks too quickly, preventing detailed pulls. The sweet spot is when the fish "sweats" slightly—the temperature differential between cold fish and warm air creates a moisture barrier that allows the medium to transfer completely, capturing maximum anatomical detail. Harley has learned to read these variables through hundreds of fish, developing innovations and paying close attention to what works. He prepares each fish meticulously, applies paint, lays canvas, and performs an intricate rub to capture size, details, and imperfections. See the technical process behind his largest prints at [28:57]

From Thousand-Pound Marlins to Maldivian Wahoo

The biggest fish Harley has printed was a 1,145-pound grander blue marlin caught off Orange Beach in 2023. His friend Craig Brumfield, another gyotaku artist, called needing extra canvas, and Harley drove out to help. While there, he couldn't resist printing the massive head—though he didn't have time for a full body print. The scale was mind-bending; the marlin could have swallowed a 50-pound tuna whole. When they opened its stomach, the smell ranked in his top three worst experiences, though it contained relatively little—a small swordfish and decayed matter. But Harley's bucket list fish isn't necessarily the biggest. He dreams of printing a giant dog-tooth tuna, a gnarly species he encountered while on a surf charter in the Maldives. That trip combined his two passions perfectly—surfing perfect waves in crystal-clear water, then handline fishing from the back of the boat for giant trevally and grouper species with electric blue and yellow coloring found nowhere near Florida. He even caught his first wahoo handlining, a 45-pound fish that gave him direct tactile connection to every shake and pull. Hear about his international fish printing adventures at [40:05]

Art Philosophy: Staying Authentic in a Commercial World

When Harley was deciding whether to pursue art in college, he faced a crossroads many creatives encounter—would making art a career ruin the joy of creation? His guidance counselor warned that artists don't make money, pushing him toward a PR and marketing degree. That education proved invaluable, giving him skills most artists lack: networking confidence, audience identification, professional branding, and social media strategy. He watched artist friends struggle to share their work, introverted and private, while his PR background made self-promotion natural. But he never lost sight of his core philosophy: create with love, passion, and zero expectation. Don't compete with other artists—art isn't a competition but a unique expression. Stay unapologetically yourself, know your values, and stick to your path. Keep creative projects private until completion, then share them with the world. And critically, he wants his art accessible—whether someone can afford a $30 t-shirt or an original piece, they should be able to own something he created. Learn his advice for aspiring artists at [1:08:14]

Final Thoughts from Tom

I've interviewed a lot of artists over the years, but there's something special about someone who has found the perfect intersection of multiple passions. Harley isn't just an artist who paints fish, and he isn't just a fisherman who happens to draw. He's someone who discovered a technique that literally requires both skills simultaneously—you have to understand fish anatomy, handle fresh catches properly, and possess the technical painting ability to capture details in unpredictable conditions. What struck me most was his philosophy about art and business. So many creative people struggle because they're either pure artists who can't market themselves, or they're commercial but lose the authenticity that makes art special.

Harley found that balance, partly because of his PR degree, but mostly because he's clear about his values. He wants his art to be accessible. He creates with love, not expectation. He doesn't compete with other artists but celebrates them. And he's willing to be uncomfortable financially because he trusts the process. That's rare wisdom, especially for someone who's only been doing this professionally for about a decade. I also loved hearing about his mom, this formally trained artist from London's Royal Academy who paints incredible hyper-realistic work but keeps it mostly private. That whole conversation about why artists don't share their work really resonated—it's so personal, so vulnerable, that many never feel ready to put it out there.

Whether you're interested in fishing art, gyotaku technique, the business side of creative work, or just want to hear from someone who's built an authentic life around his passions, this conversation delivers. Harley shares technical details about printing everything from permit to marlins, stories from the Maldives and Orange Beach, and philosophy that applies well beyond the art world. Don't just read this summary—listen to the whole thing. The way he describes feeling a wahoo on a handline or the smell of opening a marlin's stomach, those details bring the conversation to life in a way text can't capture.