Be Careful What Call
Number You Get
With the automated glee of a true
bibliophile, Senor Gallo (aka Mr.
Rooster),scrambles for the moldering
bookshelves of an eerily
labyrinthine library,perhaps
at some well known university.
Despite the library's size,
it's easy for the bird to
find his book, as it is the
only one that glows. However
it soon becomes clear to
the rooster that the shelf is out
of reach. But ever the inventive
automaton, the mechanized fowl hatches
a plan to use his mechanical advantage to
retrieve the book. This fails. But the phone
next to the sign that says, "Pick up for
Assistance" looks tempting...until Mr. Rooster
successfully uses it and gets his book. For it is then
the bird discovers the true moral of any trip to a
scary old library: Having a book and possessing it are
two entirely different things.
The Animator
Alyssa Rae Barber, having received her BFA
in Studio Arts from the University of Southern
California in 2002, decided that five years'
study at the same school was simply not
enough, and so she enrolled in the
Division of Animation and Digital
Arts (DADA) in the Cinema-
Television Department to complete
exhaustive studies in animation
for a Master's Degree; she hopes
to be finished in May of 2005,
or at some other as yet
undisclosed time. Originally
hailing from Yorktown, New York,
she now resides on the coast of
Southern California, where she can
exercise her propensity for collecting
cactus with abandon among the many fine
nurseries. Her other hobbies include making
lists of words that interest her, in the
grand tradition of the hypergraphic lexicographer;
caring for hermit crabs; talking to her mother about
any little thing; discussing future plans for visiting New
Jersey and London; drawing; painting; and planning future
animations. Besides art, she has extensive training in music,
and once played French horn with the Westchester Youth Symphony
at Carnegie Hall, and on another occasion at Lincoln
Center. It is some of the very same music she wrote while
in high school that now appears at the beginning and end of
"Senor Gallo," like bookends.
Copyright 2004 University of Southern California
All rights reserved
Artist Statement
Oddly enough, the first festival I entered
"Senor Gallo" in (which shall remain
nameless as I did not make the cut),
insisted on calling the main
character by his name,as translated
in the credits as "Mr. Rooster."
I found this a little odd at
first, but then I had a good
laugh. It seemed that the
reviewers had perhaps been
unable, by procedure or
personal preference, to accept
the character as I had named him.
Their motives are hidden. But if
I were to take that experience and
interpret it a bit, I'd say that it
might have been hard for the reviewers
to accept the linguistic randomness with
which they were confronted. For no apparent
reason, an English-speaking wind-up chicken has
a Spanish name, and the resident Library Ghost (long
rumored to be an actual inhabitant of one of USC's book-
stacks) announces himself in Spanish, completely without the
aid of subtitles. Why? Well, at the time, I was learning a
little Spanish. But why I feel the need to share my experience
with everyone else and perhaps annoy them with my lack of
English subtitles is another matter entirely.
When I look at "Senor Gallo" with a few months' hindsight, I begin to see more
clearly why I wanted to take my mainly English-speaking audience on a
linguistic detour into Spanish and word puns ending in a one-liner about
the only book in the library with an attached "sheet."
Artist Statement Continued
It
bespeaks a personal obsession of mine with
language that I played with words in "Senor
Gallo." In a library, especially one
as large as this, one can go for a
walk, pick up five books, turn to
any page, copy down a few words
from each one, and end up with
a list of phrases that seem to
make no sense at first. But
from so motley and random a
list, at least to me, a story
always seems to emerge. For
instance, whenever I get one of
those junk e-mails asking me to
buy Canadian generics, I always read
those, because I've noticed recently
that for some reason the anonymous authors
of those annoying little sales pitches are
inserting random word strings into the headers,
probably to create interest in their dubious
product. Having no interest in specious medical offers,
I do like to read those e-mails for their often very humorous
or narrative collages of words. I find them very inspiring, as
many of my ideas for animation come out of sessions where I sit
down and just brainstorm words until the right ones come out to
describe a new concept. Where else but in the chaotic stew of
collage words could the idea for the "first sock automatic
exchange structure" have been born? (That was a phrase sent to me
in one of those e-mails. I have since decided that the device it describes would
exchange one's dirty socks for a clean pair.) "Collage" is a good word to
describe my creative process: going to the library of my mind, and coming out
with floating ideas I had not thought of before I went in there. Then
I'm free to paste them together in a new way.
Artist Statement Continued
And "collage" is also the perfect word to describe
the chicken's journey. The cutout
animation and photo montage
background are a literal collage of
parts. The bird himself is an
incongruous character, a
nineteenth century automaton in a
twenty-first century university
library, where he goes in
search of a book, a prosaic
task much like a mundane word
taken at face value. He finds
the book but is confronted by a
situation that makes little sense in
a rational way. It is only when he
succumbs to the power of words in all
their nuances, that he is able to make sense
of his situation: the ghost takes the book
because he is the "attached sheet," an unscheduled
appendix that gives the bird quite a pain.
There is something Freudian about the analysis of irrational
dreamlike situations by using explanations provided by
linguistics, like words with double meanings obscured by more
common or polite ones. A library is a perfect place for hidden
words and meanings. Given a lifetime, I don't think one
could read every book. And in a library as big as the one
Senor Gallo goes to, one could easily get a case of Stendahl's syndrome just
looking at one section of shelves. So each book that you want and find is
a piece of unexpected buried treasure, like the ghost, only less disturbing. I have
a high regard for these places of learning, where even the most arcane little
government statistic can be brought to light and used in a new way.
My personal regard for the library began at a
young age, as my mother was for years a
school librarian first at a high school
and then at a primary school. I
have so many fond memories of
the books she used to bring me,
and the hours we used to spend
learning how to take notes and do
research. It is no wonder I
feel nostalgic whenever I'm
at the library, most any one
really. It is to my mother I
owe that debt of gratitude, for
it was she who introduced me, and
all my characters, to the real spirit
of the library.
Film Stills for "Senor Gallo"
1. Book too high...
2. Idea!! 
3. Pesky overconfidence!!
4. Yee haw! 
With the automated glee of a true
bibliophile, Senor Gallo (aka Mr.
Rooster),scrambles for the moldering
bookshelves of an eerily
labyrinthine library,perhaps
at some well known university.
Despite the library's size,
it's easy for the bird to
find his book, as it is the
only one that glows. However
it soon becomes clear to
the rooster that the shelf is out
of reach. But ever the inventive
automaton, the mechanized fowl hatches
a plan to use his mechanical advantage to
retrieve the book. This fails. But the phone
next to the sign that says, "Pick up for
Assistance" looks tempting...until Mr. Rooster
successfully uses it and gets his book. For it is then
the bird discovers the true moral of any trip to a
scary old library: Having a book and possessing it are
two entirely different things.
Copyright
2004 University of Southern California
Scroll Down for More!
Scroll Down for More!
Production
Details
Animation, Direction, Music
Alyssa Barber
Voice Characterizations
Alyssa Barber as Senor Gallo
Ramiro Cazaux as El Espectro
Sound Recordist
Juri Hwang
Sound Mixer
Shawn Hinds
Line Producer
Mar Elepano
Faculty Advisors
Lisa Mann and Joshua Harrell
Special Thanks To
Midge Costin, James Berry,
Adriana Jaroszewicz
Color and Film Printing By
Fotokem
Backgrounds Created In
Adobe Photoshop 5.5
Sound Compiled In
Adobe Premiere 6.0 on Intel Workstations Donated by Dell
Filmed In/Runtime/Date of Finish
16 mm/Approx. 3 min: 20 sec/September 2003
Copyright 2004 University of Southern California
All rights reserved
Alyssa Barber
Voice Characterizations
Alyssa Barber as Senor Gallo
Ramiro Cazaux as El Espectro
Sound Recordist
Juri Hwang
Sound Mixer
Shawn Hinds
Line Producer
Mar Elepano
Faculty Advisors
Lisa Mann and Joshua Harrell
Special Thanks To
Midge Costin, James Berry,
Adriana Jaroszewicz
Color and Film Printing By
Fotokem
Backgrounds Created In
Adobe Photoshop 5.5
Sound Compiled In
Adobe Premiere 6.0 on Intel Workstations Donated by Dell
Filmed In/Runtime/Date of Finish
16 mm/Approx. 3 min: 20 sec/September 2003
Copyright 2004 University of Southern California
All rights reserved
The Animator
Alyssa Rae Barber, having received her BFA
in Studio Arts from the University of Southern
California in 2002, decided that five years'
study at the same school was simply not
enough, and so she enrolled in the
Division of Animation and Digital
Arts (DADA) in the Cinema-
Television Department to complete
exhaustive studies in animation
for a Master's Degree; she hopes
to be finished in May of 2005,
or at some other as yet
undisclosed time. Originally
hailing from Yorktown, New York,
she now resides on the coast of
Southern California, where she can
exercise her propensity for collecting
cactus with abandon among the many fine
nurseries. Her other hobbies include making
lists of words that interest her, in the
grand tradition of the hypergraphic lexicographer;
caring for hermit crabs; talking to her mother about
any little thing; discussing future plans for visiting New
Jersey and London; drawing; painting; and planning future
animations. Besides art, she has extensive training in music,
and once played French horn with the Westchester Youth Symphony
at Carnegie Hall, and on another occasion at Lincoln
Center. It is some of the very same music she wrote while
in high school that now appears at the beginning and end of
"Senor Gallo," like bookends.
Copyright 2004 University of Southern California
All rights reserved
Artist Statement
Oddly enough, the first festival I entered
"Senor Gallo" in (which shall remain
nameless as I did not make the cut),
insisted on calling the main
character by his name,as translated
in the credits as "Mr. Rooster."
I found this a little odd at
first, but then I had a good
laugh. It seemed that the
reviewers had perhaps been
unable, by procedure or
personal preference, to accept
the character as I had named him.
Their motives are hidden. But if
I were to take that experience and
interpret it a bit, I'd say that it
might have been hard for the reviewers
to accept the linguistic randomness with
which they were confronted. For no apparent
reason, an English-speaking wind-up chicken has
a Spanish name, and the resident Library Ghost (long
rumored to be an actual inhabitant of one of USC's book-
stacks) announces himself in Spanish, completely without the
aid of subtitles. Why? Well, at the time, I was learning a
little Spanish. But why I feel the need to share my experience
with everyone else and perhaps annoy them with my lack of
English subtitles is another matter entirely.
When I look at "Senor Gallo" with a few months' hindsight, I begin to see more
clearly why I wanted to take my mainly English-speaking audience on a
linguistic detour into Spanish and word puns ending in a one-liner about
the only book in the library with an attached "sheet."
Artist Statement Continued
language that I played with words in "Senor
Gallo." In a library, especially one
as large as this, one can go for a
walk, pick up five books, turn to
any page, copy down a few words
from each one, and end up with
a list of phrases that seem to
make no sense at first. But
from so motley and random a
list, at least to me, a story
always seems to emerge. For
instance, whenever I get one of
those junk e-mails asking me to
buy Canadian generics, I always read
those, because I've noticed recently
that for some reason the anonymous authors
of those annoying little sales pitches are
inserting random word strings into the headers,
probably to create interest in their dubious
product. Having no interest in specious medical offers,
I do like to read those e-mails for their often very humorous
or narrative collages of words. I find them very inspiring, as
many of my ideas for animation come out of sessions where I sit
down and just brainstorm words until the right ones come out to
describe a new concept. Where else but in the chaotic stew of
collage words could the idea for the "first sock automatic
exchange structure" have been born? (That was a phrase sent to me
in one of those e-mails. I have since decided that the device it describes would
exchange one's dirty socks for a clean pair.) "Collage" is a good word to
describe my creative process: going to the library of my mind, and coming out
with floating ideas I had not thought of before I went in there. Then
I'm free to paste them together in a new way.
Artist Statement Continued
And "collage" is also the perfect word to describe
the chicken's journey. The cutout
animation and photo montage
background are a literal collage of
parts. The bird himself is an
incongruous character, a
nineteenth century automaton in a
twenty-first century university
library, where he goes in
search of a book, a prosaic
task much like a mundane word
taken at face value. He finds
the book but is confronted by a
situation that makes little sense in
a rational way. It is only when he
succumbs to the power of words in all
their nuances, that he is able to make sense
of his situation: the ghost takes the book
because he is the "attached sheet," an unscheduled
appendix that gives the bird quite a pain.
There is something Freudian about the analysis of irrational
dreamlike situations by using explanations provided by
linguistics, like words with double meanings obscured by more
common or polite ones. A library is a perfect place for hidden
words and meanings. Given a lifetime, I don't think one
could read every book. And in a library as big as the one
Senor Gallo goes to, one could easily get a case of Stendahl's syndrome just
looking at one section of shelves. So each book that you want and find is
a piece of unexpected buried treasure, like the ghost, only less disturbing. I have
a high regard for these places of learning, where even the most arcane little
government statistic can be brought to light and used in a new way.
Artist
Statement Continued
My personal regard for the library began at a
young age, as my mother was for years a
school librarian first at a high school
and then at a primary school. I
have so many fond memories of
the books she used to bring me,
and the hours we used to spend
learning how to take notes and do
research. It is no wonder I
feel nostalgic whenever I'm
at the library, most any one
really. It is to my mother I
owe that debt of gratitude, for
it was she who introduced me, and
all my characters, to the real spirit
of the library.
Film Stills for "Senor Gallo"
1. Book too high...
2. Idea!!
3. Pesky overconfidence!!
4. Yee haw!
