Category Archives: Pocket Neighborhoods

A 4-Micro-Unit House

Continuing the small house thread from our last post, we’ve been brainstorming into how tiny houses (< 350 SF) may be a viable housing option. Rather than being low-profile ‘outlaw’ houses, lets bring them into the neighborhood. Let them stand tall as beautiful homes for 20-Somethings, Active (Older) Singles, and even our Elders.

Here’s a 4-micro-unit house with shared kitchen/living/dining …

Each studio unit is 320 square feet, with their own exterior door opening out to a large south facing covered porch. The micro units have a kitchenette with undercounter fridge and small sink, but no stove. Residents can come together for shared meals, movie nights and hangout in the Commons Room. Because there is only one kitchen, the units would be considered as bedroom suites within one single house, permitted on a single-family residential lot. The total size of the house is 1808 square feet.

What do you think? Would this be a viable development model? Would it work as a rental? For sale via coop ownership? Would it be too much of a hassle, or a welcome alternative?

Better Together: Small House Living Thrives in a Community

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Small houses are getting a lot of press days. They are capturing our imagination, teasing our nesting instinct, and enticing us to consider the possibility of living with a smaller mortgage or less rent. Squeezed by the economy and a monoculture housing market, millennials, singles, empty nesters, and elders are thinking small is the answer—or, at least, that “not so big” is key. Small-house advocates are helping us refine how we can live large in small spaces, with clever fold-down beds, under-stair storage, niches, and alcoves.

Perfecting the small house, however, isn’t enough.

Ben Brown of PlaceMakers, who lived in a 308-square-foot Katrina Cottage, concluded that small house living takes a town. He says that “the smaller the nest, the bigger the balancing need for community.” With slightly snug houses, cabin fever can set in without porches and gardens to step out onto, or the park at the end of the block, or the local coffee house—places to be around others with little effort.

Plunked down in the midst of a subdivision of McMansions tied to the wider world by connector streets, a Katrina Cottage would seem absurd. There would be few neighbors around to chat with, since most of their needs are met behind their grand doors.

Context is everything: a small house is better with the companionship of other neighborly houses (like those with porches) within range of great public places to go to—preferably by foot or on a bike.

Pocket Neighborhoods for Special Niches

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Luna Azul community for adults with disabilities features two pocket neighborhood clusters connected to the Center House with a linear walkway.

Here is a community designed to provide safe and permanent housing for adults with intellectual, developmental and acquired disabilities. Over the years we’ve helped create pocket neighborhoods for singles and empty nesters, market-rate multi-generational buyers and folks needing affordable housing. When developer Mark Roth approached us about creating a safe and supportive pocket neighborhood for disabled adults like his daughter, we were all for it. “Few options exist today for adults with disabilities, or for their families,” says Roth. “Pocket neighborhoods are a great concept and already popular, especially among adults seeking greater energy efficiencies in their homes and more intimate community living and support systems.”

Builder Online posted an article with more background and information on Luna Azul. Listen to an NPR story here, and visit the Luna Azul website. The first phase is complete.

The site Roth has chosen is in the Phoenix metro area—a very different climate condition and cultural heritage than most sites we work with. For this, we’ve developed vernacular design elements and materials familiar with the region. We’re incorporating deep arcades, trellised ramadas and fountains. Fundamentally, though, the community includes many of the design bones we’ve used in virtually all of our pocket neighborhoods: small clusters, shared commons at the heart, corralled cars, layers of personal space, room-sized front porch, private back yard, nested houses, and more.

Holding the center between two clustered pocket neighborhoods (30 dwellings total) is the Center House, with community gathering spaces, exercise center, offices, and guest spaces. In the courtyard will be a pool and patio, covered outdoor room with a fireplace, and lawn.

Living in this community will be some residents who, because of their disabilities, are prone to wander. For this reason, there is a complete perimeter wall for their safety. We generally don’t like gated communities; however, in this case, it’s required. A guest coming to visit will first see the front of the two-story Center House—appearing like a gracious larger home. It is decidedly non-institutional. Cars tuck into a small lot shielded with a landscaped berm. To the side, in as non-descript manor as possible, a drive angles off to a gate. On the looped drive are parallel, pull-in and carport parking spaces for residents’ families, guests and service providers.

The housing clusters, while similar, are laid out with differentiating elements. For spatial clarity, especially for residents with autism, a central linear walkway ties the pocket neighborhoods through the Center House.

—Ross Chapin

Cohousing vs Pocket Neighborhoods – What’s the Difference?

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Cohousing communities are intentional by nature, with residents purposely coming together around shared values and commitments. In Pocket Neighborhoods, a sense of community may arise naturally among neighbors by the fact of living around a commons, and may be augmented with more intention.
(left: Petaluma Avenue Cohousing /photo by Grace Kim; right: Greenwood Avenue Cottages /photo by Karen DeLucas)

Cohousing has been taking hold across North America and around the world, offering an enticing option for people wanting to live in a more closely knit community. Some even call it a movement. Pocket Neighborhoods are being tossed around as a viable housing approach within existing neighborhoods, as well as sub-neighborhoods within larger new developments. Both foster a sense of community by design; but what’s the difference between the two?

Pocket neighborhoods, by our definition, are clusters of nearby neighbors around a shared commons of some sort — micro-neighborhoods with a scale of sociability. They are the physical arrangements of houses or apartments, or even trailers, designed to foster neighborly interactions while preserving personal privacy. A sense of community may arise naturally (more or less) among its residents by the fact that everyone lives around a commons.

In cohousing, community is intentional. Future residents purposely come together around clearly defined shared values and visions, and then plan and build the physical environment*, and manage the community once it is built. Residents are expected to take part in regular team-cooked meals, be on committees and engage in shared responsibilities. Decisions and disputes are handled as much as possible through consensus. Social life of the residents is often centered among members of the community.

A classic cottage courtyard pocket neighborhood tucked behind two existing houses on a town street.

All during the research and writing of my book, I asked, ‘what is the right size of a pocket neighborhood?’ I was aware that cohousing communities typically have 20–30 households, a number that advocates believe to be optimum – large enough to have a diversity of residents and social coherence, yet not too large where decision-making becomes cumbersome. My sense was that pocket neighborhoods were smaller – with 6–10 households (more or less), which is a natural scale of sociability among humans. These are one’s closest neighbors who relate informally during the comings and goings of daily activity. Then I recognized that most (but not all) cohousing communities are configured with a series of pocket neighborhood-like clusters. The larger community is an aggregate of smaller subgroups. My hunch is that this was design by common sense, rather than an intentional social configuration.

Pocket Neighborhood clusters within a cohousing community.

Pocket neighborhoods that were not originally organized as cohousing communities sometimes become more cohousing-like by instigating regular shared meals, garden work parties, social events, and decision-making and dispute resolution practices.

Cohousing, with it’s larger size and it’s emphasis on community, will usually have a large (3000–5000 SF) common house with a commercial kitchen, community dining room, living room, guest rooms, children’s playrooms, workshop, exercise gym, and more.

Cohousing common houses have extensive spaces and amenities to serve the community.
(Common House at Nevada City Cohousing)

Pocket neighborhoods initiated by developers tend to have modest community facilities, but they have at least a place where nearby neighbors can come together – such as a picnic shelter or open-air barbecue. If budgets allow, they may have a four-season community room with a kitchen and bathroom, and perhaps a guest room. They almost always have a shared toolshed.

Pocket neighborhoods have more modest common gathering spaces, such as a community room or outdoor fireplace. (left: Salish Pond Cottages; right: Seabrook)

Whether a pocket neighborhood stands on its own, or is a sub-cluster of a larger cohousing community, the social size of the cluster is what they are about. Of course, other patterns factor in to their design, but their essential ingredient is the particular scale at which neighborly relations tend to blossom.

Hope this helps. Please chime in with your perspective and experience.

—Ross Chapin

*post script: the US Cohousing Association recently updated their definition of cohousing, loosening the requirement that residents be involved in planning their communities to use the term “cohousing”. A common house is not a requirement either, though there is an expectation to have ample common amenities.

A Camp for Life-Long Children

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I am engaging in a lively Facebook conversation with friends from high school. The thread stemmed from one of those alluring photos of a row of tiny houses for a group of friends. One of my classmates asked, half jokingly, if anyone knew of a spot with a warm climate (we’re from Minnesota) where we might do it. As the conversation went on, I asked if they imagined this to be a cluster of cabins for occasional long weekend retreats, or a place to retire to. And (nudging a more serious question), if they were serious, then when would they imagine? The answer from one: full time, in three years.

In response, I’m pulling up a story from my Pocket Neighborhoods book about a group of friends who did just that …

The camp began as an idea among friends as a place to retire.

It started like so many close friends who’ve said, “Imagine us all growing old together!” Except in this case, these friends acted on their dream. In 1987, seven households bought 20 acres of rural land in Northern California, hired a renowned architect from Berkeley, and built a collective house to retire in.

Five members of the seven households trace their friendships to the early 1960s in southern California, where they organized a co-operative nursery school for their children. The families grew close as they vacationed together, saw their children off to college, and celebrated weddings, births, and deaths. “Our kids grew up together, knowing each other like cousins,” says Jill Myers. “When we thought about retirement, we wanted this family sense of intimacy to continue, especially for our grandchildren.”

Wide covered porches of the Common House accommodate outdoor dining and chairs for conversation, and broad steps cascading down to the lawn make ideal seating for grandchildrens talent shows.

The group imagined a kind of year-round summer camp with an open invitation to their children’s families and friends. Laura Hartman and David Kau of Fernau+Hartman Architects helped develop the camp theme into a design with informal and spirited buildings rather than standard fare housing.

Seven households live together in four buildings that form a wide V-shaped compound facing a sunny clearing.

Four colorful buildings—raised on stilts above the flood plain—form a wide V-shaped compound embracing a sunny clearing in the Redwood forest. Residents pass from one building to the next via connecting pergolas and covered walkways. Is this a hardship during inclement weather? “It’s never been an issue,” replies Myers. “If it’s raining hard, we use the dash method!” During warm weather, living space expands out to covered porches for outdoor dining and overflow sleeping, complete with hooks for hammocks. And when grandkids and their friends come for the annual Summer Camp, the broad steps that cascade from the deck make ideal seating to watch their talent show.

Four couples and three single women have their own apartments and share a common kitchen/dining/living area, library, and laundry-sewing room. Their private units have a large bedroom, sitting room, and loft, but no kitchen.

All the buildiings are raised up on stilts to be above the flood plane of a nearby stream. The forms of the buildings are fixed on the courtyard side, however, residents can opt to extend their units on the back side, expressed by different accent colors and materials.

All the buildings are raised up on stilts to be above the flood plane of a nearby stream. The forms of the buildings are fixed on the courtyard side, however, residents can opt to extend their units on the back side, expressed by different accent colors and materials.

Dinners are shared in camp-style fashion, with residents fending for breakfast and lunch on their own. The 15-ft. x18-ft. common kitchen holds nine in a squeeze, working at a commercial-style stove, two sinks, counters, and baking area. A saddlebag eating nook and spacious pantry supplement the space.

Meals are made in the compounds only kitchen. Breakfast and lunch are “on your own”, whereas dinners are prepared by rotating cooking teams and served “sit down” to the whole family of friends.

Meals are laissez faire. As one resident describes their arrangement, “While the kitchen is communal, no one is required to cook, or even eat with the group. ‘Those who like to cook, cook; those who only like to eat, eat,’”. There is a caveat to this arrangement, however. If you eat and don’t cook, you have to clean up.

Contingencies have been considered for an elevator and ramps to allow for easier accessibility, but the group has not yet felt the need to act on these plans. Their first defense against infirmity is “being young at heart.”

Outside the Box

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What is lovable—or not— about the street you’re on?

Whether designing a single house or a pocket neighborhood of homes, we always begin outside the box. What is the larger environment that surrounds us? What is lovable —in particular— about the street we’re on, or the houses to either side? Is it the massing and proportion of the neighboring buildings, their pleasing palate of related colors, or the detail of a roof bracket?

What is not lovable? What is missing? Do the houses seem to stand alone rather than being in conversation? Does the street feel too wide and vacant? Are there are trees missing in a rhythm?

And then we ask, how might we make the larger better with our smaller action? As we arrange the car connection, building positions and layout of the gardens and major trees, how can we add to the qualities we love and repair the broken patterns or missing elements?

These initial questions are the most important efforts we do to ensure a successful project.

A courtyard cluster focusing in on itself, while its buildings and the parking lot shun all who pass by.

I’ll risk illustrating this with a bad example. Here’s a classic cottage courtyard with a central commons. The homes are relatively affordable. Yet a parking lot hangs out in front like an afterthought. The ends of the buildings are blank and landscaping almost non-existent. Clearly, no attention was given to how this project connects and contributes to the fabric of the surrounding houses and streetscape. It does not add to the walkability of the neighborhood, the engagement of the community, nor the prevailing home values.

The street face of Danielson Grove makes a gesture to the surrounding neighborhood and passersby.

This counter example is a bit unfair. It had a much larger budget, but I want you to notice the core patterns.

Danielson Grove is also a classic cottage courtyard nested within an existing neighborhood of single-family homes. While the front of the homes face onto the courtyard, the buildings on the street offer a friendly gesture: the Common House has an entry porch and garden, and the End House has a gabled dormer and trellis. Large conifer trees along the street were preserved, helping the new development feel settled in on Opening Day. Parking is out of view completely, in a cluster located off of a lane on the backside of the court.

To say this in another way, outside-the-box thinking leads to “both/and” solutions, where our own needs and desires are met in ways that enrich and enhance the surrounding neighborhood. Have your cake and eat it, too.

~Ross Chapin

Ross Chapin Architects

Innovative Neighborhood Design

Category Archives: Pocket Neighborhoods

Pocket Neighborhoods for Special Niches

Cohousing vs Pocket Neighborhoods – What’s the Difference?

A Camp for Life-Long Children

Outside the Box