In the less-than-grand, complex scheme of providing shelter for those experiencing homelessness, there is a common shrug of the shoulder, a lack of caring from those of us who aren’t homeless when it comes to how a homeless shelter is designed.

“It’s a shelter—they should be happy to get what they get!” is pretty much what I imagine a person like Robert Fox would say. On the other end, a skeptical but reasonable eyebrow lift: “The shelter is what is important; not how it looks.”

I was for the most part, without much cognizance, on the latter side—but I hit a wall in realizing how utterly idiotic that stance was in terms of actually getting folks in the most unstable of positions in life toward some recognizable Road Toward Stability.

I hit this point when I first talked with 58-year-old twin sisters Karleen Watley and Kary Cook, who were often frightened to step into shelters because of not only the possibility of being separated but also placed among men they didn’t trust.

I hit this point when I first talked with DeVaughn Little when, booted from her apartment due to an impossible-to-keep-up-with rent hike, she noted that she and her daughter were safer inside a car—though that depended on where they parked—than stepping inside a shelter sometimes.

I hit this point when I first talked to blind senior citizen Tyletha [last name redacted to protect her] earlier this year when she said one of the largest bumps along her path to housing was the struggle of staying at the shelter itself since it often placed her within feet of the very men who often violated her space while on the street.

Spaces, even temporary ones which cater to those experiencing homeless, deserve thought and dignity within their design—and their lack thereof might even be exacerbating our problems despite good intentions.

And it is one way in which the City of Angels is showing just how dedicated it is toward not just alleviating the problem, but providing folks some dignity along the way: thanks to a project by the L.A. arm of the Urban Land Institute three architectural firms—DLR Group, JFAK Architects, and Long Beach’s very own Studio One Eleven, who worked with three landscape architecture firms, EPT Design, RELM Studio, and SWA Group —were asked to approach temporary housing through the eyes of a designer, asked to create a 50-bed site, a 100-bed site, and a 150-bed site that could be theoretically placed into a random parking lot.

Their task was not an easy one. For $1 million, design the shelter while simultaneously tackling the two largest issues with current shelters: Creating a dignified space for those actually seeking shelter, a space which they will want to seek help at all the while—and probably the most difficult task of all—creating a space that won’t receive backlash from the neighborhood in which it is meant to be implemented.

Even better? L.A. Mayor Eric Garcetti—in a stark contrast to Long Beach Mayor Robert Garcia’s mostly “Let’s talk about ideas!” approach in his much-marketed Everyone Home Long Beach campaign—is handing over $30 million to directly build these shelters, NIMBYs be damned, thanks to a new state law which allows cities to build shelters on city-owned lands should a shelter crisis be declared.

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A rendering shows the "bridge" area of Studio One Eleven's shelter concept. Courtesy of Studio One Eleven.
A rendering shows the “bridge” area of Studio One Eleven’s shelter concept. Courtesy of Studio One Eleven.

Let’s get one thing clear right off the bat: L.A.’s homeless crisis is our own—whether you want to admit that or not; it is our collective issue, not an our-city-their-city battle.

That being said, there’s also the reality that Long Beach’s own grapple with homelessness is not remotely on par with that of the City of Angels: Long Beach, according to the latest homeless count, sees nearly 3,000 people experiencing homelessness; Los Angeles County (excluding Pasadena, Long Beach, and Glendale since they have their own counts), by contrast, sees some 55,000 people experiencing homelessness on any given night. That means over 22,000 folks a night don’t have shelter in the county alone and over 1,200 folks in Long Beach are unsheltered each evening.

These are our neighbors; they’re all part of our home.

And that lack of shelter is because shelters are consistently slammed and, when it comes to clients seeking their assistance, several caveats lead to either their acceptance, dismissal, or the call to Patiently Wait Until Tomorrow: the time the arrive, if they have a pet or others in their party, their sobriety or lack thereof, mental health concerns and stability or lack thereof, their very own will or lack thereof…

But this doesn’t mean that we can’t begin to attack the problem head-on—and that means providing more temporary housing in whatever capacity we can and, though the NIMBYs will angrily be huffing in my direction, I don’t think it is any one city’s job to do so but every city in the county.

In the words of Tim Robbins, a man who has fluctuated perpetually between homelessness and housing in Long Beach: “It’s impossible to dream when you’re fighting for survival.” In other words, stability is the sole pathway to a functioning life; the less we provide that stability, the more we’re apt to induce further chaos.

Of course, it’s much more complicated than just building more; it has to function properly, for both those experiencing homelessness and for those in the neighborhood where the shelter is going.

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The topography and configuration of Studio One Eleven's homeless shelter proposal. Courtesy of Studio One Eleven.
The topography and configuration of Studio One Eleven’s homeless shelter proposal. Courtesy of Studio One Eleven.

“We realized that there is not only a significant aversion amongst the homeless toward shelters but perhaps even a more significant aversion to shelters themselves amongst homeowners,” said Michael Bohn, principal at Studio One Eleven. “So we realized that it was about as much courting to the existing community as it was folding them into interacting with fellow humans.”

Their design was rather simple: create a space—let’s say something like a dog park—that both the public and those seeking shelter would use or appreciate. Create spaces for food trucks. Create spaces for art. Create a space for bike amenities. This overall parcel would be closest to the public; it would be the most visible to passersby as well as accessible to everyone and, contrary to the beds themselves, be a permanent feature for the community.

Farther in, away from the street, would be individualized spaces to sleep. These spaces would be more for those who are the most stable and likely to reach permanent housing goals. Within these individual rooms would be gathering spaces, play areas for children, and something—in first thoughts, a nursery—which provides the clients a sense of ownership.

Farthest in and most removed would be urgent housing for those with the most dire of medical or mental needs.

In other words, it’s a theoretical outline in a physical layout: folks who are “urgent” in their needs are farthest removed before they can enter the “bridge” area which houses stable folks experiencing homeless. That bridge area is neighbor to the “community” entity which is the final step toward rehabilitation. Urgent to bridge to community.

What this model provides is cheap, accessible temporary housing for 100 folks experiencing homelessness.

“It’s really about providing people, failed by the system, some sort of stability and recognition that their lives are just as worthy as anyone else’s,” Bohn said.

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A rendering shows the street view of a possible homeless shelter. Courtesy of Studio One Eleven.
A rendering shows the street view of a possible homeless shelter. Courtesy of Studio One Eleven.

This is not to say Garcetti’s initiatives have been astoundingly well received.

The El Pueblo project, opening this month, had a staggering $700,000 added to its already hefty budget because its configuration ended up mimicking the lack of welcome traditional shelters have.

A proposal to build a temporary shelter in a Koreatown parking lot led to residents and business owners outright screaming bloody hell because, well, we all want to do whatever we can to solve homelessness except build more housing in our own neighborhoods.

Meanwhile, Long Beach perpetually brags about its reduction in homelessness—and while that is surely something to boast about, it doesn’t seem to actually address the issue when we pair our concern with our neighbor to the north. Nor does it make the 1,200 souls who sleep outside every night in Long Beach any less staggering.

In other words, we need to be more aggressive. We need the aggressiveness with which Garcetti is tackling the issue—marking funding for tangible solutions—reflects more of 9th District Councilmember Rex Richardson’s plea than it does Garcia’s campaign to talk about the issue. Of course, I am not idiotic; there are aspects of #EveryoneHomeLB that are admirable and outright needed.

But please, when it comes to shelters, let’s not have another task force. No more commissions. No more committees. No more listening sessions. Ask the Multi Service Center what they need to get more people sheltered. Ask Studio One Eleven how they can make it happen. And do it.