Santa Barbara

Santa Barbara is a personal exploration of immigration through the eyes of one family, my own. In Russia, the 1980s soap opera Santa Barbara — saturated with wealth and sun—was the first and, for a long time, the only American show available. For many families, it symbolized all of America, all of the West. My own family was no exception.

Inspired by the show, my mother found a way to achieve the true American dream. “I am a young woman from Moscow,” my mother wrote in a classified advertisement. “I want to see America, and meet a kind man who can show me the country.” The ad attracted dozens of American men who wrote back, inviting her to a new life on the other side of the world. One of them was from Santa Barbara. And this is where the story begins: the experience of touching something that felt untouchable. My mother became a mail-order bride, taking my brother and I with her to America to meet the man who would soon take the place of my real father.

In light of the immigration ban in the United States, I wanted to examine my own family’s history and worked with the original writer of Santa Barbara to create a script reflecting the journey my mother made to America. After interviewing dozens of women, I came to learn that my mother was among a cohort of other Russian women who came to America as mail-order brides. For many, becoming a mail-order bride provided a means of escaping poverty following the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. That desperation drove thousands of women, like my mother, to seek a different life. This project aims to offer insight into the world of these women and the ultimate sacrifices they made to become American.

For the past year, I've worked with a set of actors to re-construct my family’s first experiences as immigrants in America. Through film and still images, this project attempts to re-create the experiences of our journey, allowing viewers to put themselves in the shoes of an immigrant family. This is not only my family’s story, it is the story of a mother, her courage, and the courage of all immigrants in America.

© Diana Markosian - My family arrived in America. My mother described it as the arrival to nowhere, with the hope of going somewhere.
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My family arrived in America. My mother described it as the arrival to nowhere, with the hope of going somewhere.

© Diana Markosian - Image from the Santa Barbara photography project
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The year was 1996. It happened overnight. We had spent years watching the American soap opera Santa Barbara and all of a sudden we were there.

© Diana Markosian - Image from the Santa Barbara photography project
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My mother was a mail order bride. She had received dozens of letters from men in America promising her a different life. Eli, 65, was from Santa Barbara.

© Diana Markosian - Image from the Santa Barbara photography project
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California was nothing like the America we had seen on our TV screen. It all felt so strange, so different from the world we had known.

© Diana Markosian - My mom introduced us to Eli. I had never seen anyone like him before.
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My mom introduced us to Eli. I had never seen anyone like him before.

© Diana Markosian - Our life in Russia quickly became a part of a distant memory, along with my father.
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Our life in Russia quickly became a part of a distant memory, along with my father.

© Diana Markosian - I'm not sure my mother ever found the America she was looking for.
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I'm not sure my mother ever found the America she was looking for.

© Diana Markosian - Image from the Santa Barbara photography project
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The initial disappointment was followed by a decision to stay. Her first job in America was selling men's ties at a department store.

© Diana Markosian - I didn't know what to make of this old man. My mom trusted him, and said he was a friend who would help us.
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I didn't know what to make of this old man. My mom trusted him, and said he was a friend who would help us.

© Diana Markosian - Our life in Russia quickly became a part of a distant memory, along with my father.
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Our life in Russia quickly became a part of a distant memory, along with my father.

© Diana Markosian - Image from the Santa Barbara photography project
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Eli was much older than my mother had expected. He spent his mornings carefully reading the obituaries. It was a ritual that was followed by an episode of The Price is Right.

© Diana Markosian - Image from the Santa Barbara photography project
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My mom married Eli within the first six months of our arrival. As a child, I didn't understand the sacrifice my mom was making for us.

© Diana Markosian - This became our new home and here, we learned to be a family.
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This became our new home and here, we learned to be a family.

© Diana Markosian - My mom leaned on my brother for support. At 12, he became her closest confidant.
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My mom leaned on my brother for support. At 12, he became her closest confidant.

© Diana Markosian - I lost my mom. She became pre-occupied with English classes, school, and a new husband.
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I lost my mom. She became pre-occupied with English classes, school, and a new husband.

© Diana Markosian - In his kitchen, Eli taught my mom to write a check. He became our guide in this strange new place.
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In his kitchen, Eli taught my mom to write a check. He became our guide in this strange new place.

© Diana Markosian - The light on the landscape was brighter than anything we had seen before.
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The light on the landscape was brighter than anything we had seen before.

© Diana Markosian - Image from the Santa Barbara photography project
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My brother David, outside of his first school in Santa Barbara. We were outsiders. We spent the first year learning English, learning to adapt.

© Diana Markosian - Waiting for Eli.
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Waiting for Eli.

© Diana Markosian - Image from the Santa Barbara photography project
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My mom and Eli, together. In him, she found the safety she never had. He became more of a husband and father than my own father could have ever been.

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