Patrick Loste never illustrates the world of horses. He does not paint his own animals (is the word still correct?), Who live in semi-freedom on his mountainous Pyrenean land. He does not make pictures. He paints unknown horsemen, tiny passers of immensity. With the tear, he paints Saints George who face, riders who hunt, falconers who look at the sky. He continues to paint fabulous centaurs, his double impossible. So many creative pretexts, so many ways for the painted horse to finally inhabit the innumerable land. After the painting, riding the beast puts it back in the saddle .... At the center of his art, the horse centers the man.
Patick Loste paints the horse-man entity, the one that creates extension by its stride, which fuses man to the sources of his deep and secret animality, which embodies the deepest instinct of life, the one that eroticizes the intimate relationship of the humanized beast to the animalized rider who rides it, and finally that which for a time abolishes the unthinkable distance that separates man from his nature.]
Text extract Christian Noorbergen