Architecture for the homeless.

ARCHITECT RAFI ELBAZ HAS some new clients: the denizen drifters of the Bowery. When Elbaz decided to enter into a competition to redesign the interior of a homeless shelter on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, he thought it would be easy.

"I thought they would have no requirements (because) some of them lived in cardboard boxes," says Elbaz. How wrong he was: He soon found them to be some of the most forceful and intelligent clients he's ever had.

Like Elbaz, more and more architects are taking up the challenge of creating well-designed shelters for the homeless. For far too long, many shelters have been converted from abandoned or underused buildings, such as armories, trailers, or industrial buildings, with little concern for comfort. The deplorable condition in some has repulsed even those most desperate for a roof above their heads.

That's where some forward-looking architects are coming in.

"There has always been a social consciousness to many architects. The homelessness problem has become so acute that it's on everybody's radar," says Sam Davis, a Berkeley-based architect and author of Designing for the Homeless: Architecture That Works.

No architect pretends that good design alone is the solution to the problem of chronic homelessness. However, many who have signed on to new homeless shelter projects are motivated by the belief that by creating a dignified housing environment they will help ease the transition of those hardened by street life. The program for which Elbaz designed is called First Step Housing, operated by the New York City-based Common Ground Community. It prepares formerly homeless people for permanent housing.

Elbaz solicited advice from current residents of the Andrews, the Lower East Side shelter. He asked questions on what may seem like minute design details, such as how much shelf space they'd need and what kind of partitions they would like to see. The idea, he said, was "to give them a sense of creating their own space and to get them acquainted with a sense of home."

"We gave our input," says Kenneth Ryan, a formerly homeless man who has lived in the Andrews for eight years. Ryan says Elbaz was interested in their ideas. Elbaz proposed more shelf space than they thought would be necessary; so he scaled back. "We need some shelves, but we don't need shelves for 10,000 books!" Ryan says he told Elbaz.

The redesign of the Andrews involves renovating a longstanding shelter. Construction of new homeless shelters, however, often faces opposition from neighbors. By bringing a dignified design, homeless advocates have a better chance of winning over neighbors and municipal planning officials.

"If they're not doing this as good architecture, you have got no hope of getting it done," says Davis.

Few shelters in the works are as visible as the Pacific Garden Mission in Chicago. The planned new shelter will take up half of an entire city block and house more than 1,000 homeless people. This is the mission's first opportunity to build since its 1877 founding in the Loop--and the first such foray by famed local architect Stanley Tigerman in his fifty-six-year-long career.

Tigerman says he's employed empathy as an important design tool. "You think deeply about what it means to be homeless," he says. "Architects need not to be distant from whom we purport to design for."

In his early years, like most architects, Tigerman built for the rich and famous. But recently he has shunned those less-than-inspiring projects. "Designing houses for the rich-that's not interesting," he says. Whereas working on the homeless shelter, "you're enhancing their lives. Whose life would you rather enrich? It's greater payback to work for those who need me than for those who want me."

In the introduction to Design Denied: The Dynamics of Withholding Good Design and Its Ethical Implications, Tigerman underscored the immorality of how we house people: Prisons are designed to provide the least comfort to the incarcerated. The homeless are told to be content with a cot and three hots. The designs are intended to dehumanize.

Tigerman hopes to change all that. The homeless shelter he designed will have separate dormitories for men, women, and children. A landscaped courtyard atrium will create a sense of an indoor street but preserve the privacy of the residents. Greenhouses will grow organic produce to help feed the residents and function as a job training site to teach landscaping skills. The facility will also include a barbershop, a beauty salon, a chapel, gymnasiums, and a 600-seat auditorium.

While it's still uncommon for architects to be employed by homeless shelters for this kind of full scale, thoughtful design work, Tigerman says he's confident that the demand for such services will increase and that many of his younger colleagues will answer the call.

"You will be seeing more of that," he says. "Those who understand the poignancy of it will respond."