30/03/2026
Lately, I have heard several professional trainers say versions of the same thing: This is unfinished training. Non-professionals just don’t understand that.
It usually means that what we are seeing is supposedly just a phase. A horse going behind the vertical for weeks or months is described as a normal part of the process. Tense, rigid, compressed steps are explained away as “unfinished.” A tight neck, a dropped back, nervous chewing on the bit — all of it is framed as something that will eventually become beautiful later.
I do not agree.
In my view, art can happen on every level of training.
The work does not have to become ugly before it becomes beautiful.
It does not have to become tense before it becomes soft.
It does not have to become incorrect before it becomes correct.
Of course, training is not always effortless. Horses are not machines, and learning is not a straight line. There will be misunderstanding, repetition, and moments that are less polished than others. But that is not the same as saying that longer phases of tension, faulty biomechanics, or visible distress are simply acceptable because the horse is “still learning.”
I think the way matters just as much as the result, and perhaps even more.
Because not every horse will ever arrive at the imagined final picture. Some horses will find certain things too difficult, physically or mentally. And if our whole system depends on the promise that the end result will one day justify the means, what happens if that result never comes? Then all we are left with is a difficult, tense, and unfair way of training.
To me, that is not good enough.
As professionals, I believe it is our responsibility to help the horse understand. To break things down clearly. To choose exercises and progressions that the horse can meet without losing balance, posture, or confidence. Not every moment will look perfect, but the overall direction should still be toward greater ease, better biomechanics, and a horse that can stay with us mentally.
When an education system regularly produces long stretches of tension and incorrectness, I think we have to be honest enough to question the system itself.
Maybe the steps are too big.
�Maybe the premises are wrong.�
Maybe the horse is telling us that this is not a necessary phase of learning, but a sign that something in our approach is failing.
For me, the path is part of the art.
And if the path is full of force, tension, and confusion, then the result, no matter how impressive, is not something I admire.
