For those who hate playing or reading about scales, maybe you'd better skip to another entry...

I have a very clear sensation while I play scales of literally scaling, climbing something.  I envision a ladder.  It doesn't have to do with playing a scale up or down, but with how I'm progressing.  I can feel when something clicks and I'm making positive changes, ones that will stick.  Those are steps up.  Even if something doesn't go the way I like, that's not necessarily a step down.  When my mind wanders, or when I try really hard to do something, that's a step down.  I love the feeling of climbing and finishing scale work in a good place.  Of course, some days there doesn't seem to be a way to pull myself out of a rut!

Today was fine though; lots of work on a four-octave scale, a minor.  The only four-octaves I do are G, A-flat and A.  Above that my arm and wrist complain loudly!  Perhaps the worst feeling while playing a scale is the sensation that my left hand has been hung out to dry, way up high.  There's a certain amount of room you need to create (by bringing the left arm/hand around) on the way up a big scale or arpeggio, but on the way down the original position must be reclaimed.  If you delay that, you end up with a terrible frame (bent wrist, vertical fingers) in the middle positions and shifting down becomes very inconsistent.  When I make my goal on the way down the reclaiming of my starting position, everything goes more smoothly.  A four-octave scale is a great testing ground for this, and speeds/bowings should of course be varied constantly.

It's a strange experience practicing a piece right after you've heard it played by someone else.  That would be Ein Heldenleben, which all last week was played (owned?) by our concertmaster.  Hearing a great example opens you up to the possibilities that lie in the music, rather than the usual attempts to improve your playing incrementally.  Let's hope that continues for a while.