In Japan the tradition of fish printing, or gyotaku, goes back to the 1800s, when fishermen began using ink and paper to record their catch. Ms. Sessler, who studied design in college, has been making her fish prints for over a decade.

Using a small rubber roller and a series of brushes, she applies a light patina of ink to the fish. She cuts a sheet of white cloth and lays it over the fish like a shroud. Then, with the firm fingers of a baker kneading dough, she rubs the cloth, outlining the fish’s shape.  Beneath her hands, the image slowly appears, as though in a brass rubbing.

Making prints has given Ms. Sessler a passionate appreciation for such anatomical details.

“The mahi-mahi has a bloodline like an EKG,” she said, rifling through representative prints. “It spikes up and down. The John Dory’s is high and arcing, very fine. A tuna is amazing because it’s super-slippery in the front, and then there’s almost a tear and you get into rougher scales.”