Alex “Fitz” Fitzgerald volunteers in the kitchen of the PorchLight Eastgate shelter in Bellevue, Washington. One day last summer when he was cooking, shortly after the facility opened, a deer wandered up to the back patio, where everyone could see it through the cafeteria’s floor-to-ceiling glass windows. “It lifted everybody up,” says Fitz, who was formerly unhoused. “People started breaking out their cell phones, taking live feeds, ya know? Being close to nature has a psychological effect. It makes them think about their wellness.”

A direct connection to nature is exactly what Block Architects had in mind when designing the 100-bed shelter to replace the previous facility used by PorchLight (formerly Congregations for the Homeless) elsewhere in Bellevue. “These are men who have been perpetually homeless,” says the firm’s Jennifer LaFreniere. “We wanted to make them think, This is where I can change. Clearly this is not a typical shelter I’m coming to.”

Part of the reason PorchLight tapped the small Seattle firm for the Eastgate location was that LaFreniere and her dad, architect Rex Hohlbein, had experience designing and building tiny homes for unsheltered people in local residents’ backyards. They knew how vital community engagement is in winning support for projects that involve sheltering unhoused neighbors. Joshua P. LaFreniere, lead architect on the project (and Jenn’s husband), also had useful background building multifamily structures with his own firm, JPL-A, which merged with Block Architects early last year. PorchLight liked that the Block trio had a similar goal of breaking the mold of a typical shelter; they wanted to allow in lots of natural light and prioritize quality materials and beautiful exterior spaces.

“The first thing had to be getting community on board,” says Jenn. Josh and his father-in-law set to work hosting community meetings, even having dinner at people’s homes. At first, the process was more than just uncomfortable. “It was almost hostile,” Josh recalls. “There were a lot of stereotypes that people were hanging on to.” But their patient listening and methodical answering of questions eventually paid off. By the final community meeting, some of the biggest critics of the shelter were advocating for it.

Changing the way the public perceives shelters informed the design. From the nearby highway, the first glimpse you get of the structure includes an impressive mural by Australian artist Guido van Helten stretched across its 3,000-square-foot facade. A passerby might think this is an art museum, a shop, or possibly a school. “That was very much intentional,” Josh says. “We wanted people driving by to be blown away and then be curious about what that building is. Hopefully, it brings them in and they realize it’s a homeless shelter. And so right there you’ve broken down a wall.”

To create the portrait-based mural, van Helten flew to Seattle and spent a few days at the nonprofit’s former Lincoln Center shelter, eating with the men in the cafeteria. “I witnessed a nice relationship between those guys,” he says. “They all guide each other and help each other in different situations.” Three of the men, including Fitz, befriended van Helten and invited him to go fishing with them on Lake Washington. The artist ended up depicting Fitz and one of the other men in the final mural. To stay away from clichés about people experiencing homelessness and show the men in a different context, van Helten worked from photos he took on those days they spent fishing.

Even before you enter the shelter, you notice a focus on nature. A bridge that leads to the main entrance—surrounded on each side by the mural—overlooks sunken terraced benches interspersed with planters containing herbs and berries grown by the shelter staff. The benches are made of Kebony, an engineered wood that’s impregnated with a polymer intended to help it withstand up to 50 years of Northwest rains. Mithun, the integrated design firm behind the landscape architecture, incorporated a mix of trees, shrubs, and ornamental grasses, focusing on drought-tolerant and edible plants. The terraced area is used as an amphitheater for performances, meetings, or just eating lunch outside.

“[One] thing we thought about was, What is it like to be outside by choice and have agency rather than being outside by necessity?” says lead landscape architect Dakota Keene of Mithun. This focus on choice, allowing the men to make spaces their own, also informed Block Architects’ decision to place a smoking area prominently at the front of the building—rather than hiding it, as many shelters do—making it a social area where the men who smoke greet their friends and PorchLight staff and vice versa.

“We weren’t trying to simply put up a shelter. [We wanted to] change the way people perceived this project type and really try to set it up so the men would be successful.”
—Joshua P. LaFreniere, lead architect

Inside, exposed Douglas fir columns and slatted drop ceilings made from Pacific Albus lend a bright, woodsy vibe to the main-level common areas, including the cafeteria and a computer lab. The entire back wall of the cafeteria, where the men spend a lot of their time (breakfast, lunch, and dinner are all provided), is made of windows that look out to the wetland behind the building.

Upstairs, the men sleep on bunk beds that are lined up in the same room but partially separated by acoustical curtains to drown out snoring. There’s also a communal bathroom/shower area on this level, among other rooms and storage areas. North-facing windows let in views of the tree canopy and flood the spaces with indirect light. The choice to avoid windows on the south-facing front of the building was intentional, Josh says, both because the team wanted to draw people in with the uninterrupted mural and also because the southern exposure would have meant direct sunlight would heat up the building. The overall feeling is that of a minimalist tree house. The lower ground floor holds staff offices.

“This building is beautiful,” says Fitz, who used to stay at the Lincoln Center shelter until he found housing through the Department of Veterans Affairs shortly before the new PorchLight location opened. We’re sitting on the spacious back patio under swaying trees as Fitz tells me he’s also training to be a peer mentor at the shelter, helping currently unhoused men with everything from getting identification to making doctor’s appointments. “Homelessness, based on my observation, is people who are living in a personal reality—they interpret what’s going on around them through a very narrow lens,” he says. “Then, when you come here, it’s more like a shared reality, you know what I mean? It gives you hope.”

Joe Banuelos, who lived off and on at PorchLight’s prior shelter before finding his own housing, also loves the new building’s emphasis on nature. The Eastgate location is “more inviting” than the old space, he tells me. “It’s open. It’s lit up. You feel like you’re a part of something bigger than yourself.”

Banuelos is now a staff member of PorchLight’s Rotating Shelter program, which moves across participating congregations on a monthly basis, and, like Fitz, is studying to be a peer mentor. He thinks he gets more out of the outreach work than the men he works with. “I just got a compliment yesterday from a gentleman that got housed,” he says. “He was kind enough to come to me and shake my hand and say, ‘Joe, I won’t see you again. I got housing. I just wanted to thank you, because I heard your story and it encouraged me.’ So that’s what I’m sayin’—I get more from them than they could possibly get from me.”

Project Credits:

Architect of Record: BLOCK Architects

Builder: Inland Construction

Structural Engineering: GLR Engineers

Civil Engineering: PACLAND

Landscape Design: Mithun

—

Head back to the March/April 2024 issue homepage

Also Appears In

They Didn’t Just Want to Build a Housing Shelter. They Wanted to Shift Public Perception