Last Thursday, March 26th, a historic live watercolor and charango session was filmed in a chapel of the Archdiocese of Ayacucho. The performance featured painter Nicolás López, one of the world's finest watercolorists with roots in Ayacucho and Huancavelica, and musician and charango player Chano Díaz Limaco. This innovative format, which both artists dreamed of recording for posterity, is expected to be replicated with artisans and artists throughout the region.

We spoke with Nicolás about his experience and much more.

Tell us a little about the origin of this idea to combine a concert with a live watercolor composition.

For me, it was a great surprise to receive Chano's invitation last year. When we talked, we went beyond the techniques we each use to express ourselves—music and painting—and simply connected on a soul level, with what each of us conveyed. And that's how it was born; little by little, we developed the idea. It wasn't born overnight as a game; it stemmed from something deeper from the very beginning.

We developed the idea, thinking about certain themes, about images that could illustrate what is said or felt in the songs. I've lived in Ayacucho for many years, so I have a very close connection to the streets and places here. The music of the charango and guitar definitely conveys that to me: it's like an imaginary landscape I travel through when I hear those strings. That's how the idea was born. We started looking for the themes, the place, the when, the how, and the where. The important thing initially was to connect with the ideas we could work with and, based on those themes, look for relevant images.

Doing an online search, Chano is one of the most painted, portrayed, and illustrated musicians. How did his image enter your visual repertoire?

That's an interesting question. I work in the visual arts, and for the last two years I've been working on a series about Andean figures. I'm developing a series of pieces around the idea of the "premium Andean"—I'll be releasing images soon—but it originated with the intention of finding people who, for me, represent the soul of Ayacucho: living people with whom I can also interact and converse. I'm taking photographs of all of them, encompassing not only Peru, but the entire Andean region: Andahuaylas, Huancayo—where I'm from—Ayacucho, and part of Arequipa.

That's how I came to know Chano, although I already knew him through his music. Visually, it was also interesting, because the personality he has when he works on his themes, when he delves into them, is something I often experience when I paint. It was the perfect reason to start representing him. I've painted him about fifteen times. In fact, I recently took a course in Buenos Aires where the theme was portraiture, and we painted him: there were thirty people painting Chano.

I've heard you say that you can work long days, more than ten or fifteen. What does that mean to you?

The thing is, when I walk through the physical door of my studio, I lose track of time. It's a space where you feel intimidated and try to do the best you can with whatever comes to mind. You just keep putting down papers one after another. That work rhythm is timeless: sometimes it might be half an hour when I find the idea, but often I spend days of eight, twelve, or even fifteen hours.

Do you paint more alone than in public?

Yes, actually, my creative process thrives more on silence—spatial silence, I mean. I like to listen to music while I paint, but I prefer to work alone in the studio. I also prepare for projects like this one because I travel around the world sharing my work. For the last seven or eight years, I've been doing demonstrations in various parts of the world, and my work is allowing me to share it. I've developed a certain habit of doing that, and I've been refining it over that time.

Finally, what other projects do you have related to Ayacucho as a culture, as a symbol?

The truth is, I work on a different timescale, so to speak: I already have everything scheduled for 2026 and I'm working on 2027 right now. I'm developing the Yaku project, which is a watercolor residency project that will take place in Ayacucho in 2027. It will be our sixth edition, and the great thing is that there's a team behind it; we already met last week and we'll continue making progress during my remaining days here in Peru. Ayacucho is gearing up for 2027 with a bang. This year I already have projects lined up abroad.

How would you define Chano Díaz Limaco as a musician?

For me, he's the Putka Mayu. If he's a musician, he's the Putka Mayu. That's it! –laughs–.