homes

When Moshe Safdie designed Habitat 67 As an architecture student, he had a revolutionary idea: he used thousands of Lego pieces to test how housing modules could fit together in three dimensions. Decades later, the architect himself I kept remembering who even emptied entire Lego stores in Montreal to build the models. And maybe that was the problem. Reinvent the home like Lego. In the early 1960s, Western cities were trapped between two models that seemed inevitable: huge blocks of impersonal apartments or endless car-dependent suburbs. A young architecture student named Moshe Safdie He believed that there was a third way. His idea was apparently simple and radical at the same time: build prefabricated homes by stacking concrete modules as if they were giant lego piecesso that each family could have light, a terrace, vegetation and the feeling of an individual house within a large urban structure. The project ended up becoming Habitat 67, the great futuristic icon of the Montreal Expo. What Canada presented to the world as the definitive future of cities ended up being one of the most fascinating and problematic works of architecture of the 20th century. Habitat 67 was a utopia. The image of the building continues to look futuristic even today: 354 huge concrete modules prefabricated, each weighing about 90 tons, stacked in irregular shapes on an artificial peninsula facing the St. Lawrence River. Safdie was obsessed with solving a problem he considered central to the urban future: how to maintain density from the city without sacrificing privacy, nature and the feeling of home. His motto was “For everyone a garden”. Each apartment had to have its own garden, cross ventilation, open views and elevated pedestrian streets instead of closed corridors. Inspiration came from both the Pueblo homes of the American Southwest and the japanese metabolism that we talked about a few days ago, an architectural movement that imagined buildings made up of modular cells capable of growing and reorganizing like living organisms. The big problem: making it cheap. The paradox of Habitat 67 is that it was born precisely to make urban housing cheaper… and ended costing a lot more than expected. Safdie imagined that industrial prefabrication would allow apartments to be manufactured in a chain quickly and efficiently, but the reality It was very different. The complex required an extremely sophisticated assembly system, a factory installed within the work itself, gigantic cranes and very complex technical connections between modules. Each box had to leave the factory practically finished, with windows, wiring, bathrooms and kitchens incorporated before being lifted into its final position. The reduction of the original project (from 1,200 planned homes to just 158) shot even more the costs. The experiment designed to democratize the city ended up becoming a too expensive complex even for the middle class it sought to attract. Leaks and mold appear. As time went by, the other great enemy of Habitat 67 appeared: the water. The stepped structure full of terraces, gardens and joints between modules generated a waterproofing nightmare. The concrete began to leak constantly in Montreal’s extreme climate and water ended up penetrating walls and ventilation systems. Some residents reported serious problems moisture and mold for years. The repairs they were never simple because the building does not function like a conventional block: each module is a structural part of an extremely complex three-dimensional framework. Half a century later, restorations are still almost surgical. In the major rehabilitation carried out for the 50th anniversary, it was necessary to remove outer layersre-insulate huge surfaces and redesign entire systems to protect the structure from Canadian winters. From social dream to elite symbol. Another of the most striking ironies of Habitat 67 It is its social evolution. What was born as a manifesto for accessible urban housing ended up becoming one of the directions Montreal’s most exclusive. The original rents were already prohibitive in the 60s and subsequent privatization converted the apartments in luxury properties. Today some units reach millionaire prices and the monthly maintenance costs are very high. The “city for all” ended up being an enclave for cultural elites, businessmen and architecture lovers. Yet even its critics admit that the building accomplished something extraordinary: demonstrating that dense housing could be emotionally distinct from the repetitive blocks that dominated modern urbanism. He never completely died. The most fascinating thing is that, despite all its problems, Habitat 67 continues to exert a gigantic influence on architects and urban planners. decades later keep inspiring modular projects, terraced complexes and new ideas on how to combine urban density and quality of life. Even today’s digital tools have resurrected the original never-built project. In recent years, Safdie Architects and Epic Games they virtually recreated the gigantic “Project Hillside” which the Canadian government cut due to lack of money in the 60s. Thanks to Unreal Engine, drones and hyper-realistic models, the architect was able to tour for the first time the complete version of the modular city that he had imagined as a young man. There is something deeply symbolic in that image: Habitat 67 was so ambitious that not even the technology of its time could do it. fully viable. Maybe that’s why it continues to fascinate today. Because it seems like a relic of the past… but also a vision of an urban future that we still don’t know how to build without collapsing due to leaks, crazy costs and eternal repairs. Image | Parcours riverain – Ville de Montréal, Thomas Ledl, Vassgergely In Xataka | In 1970 Japan built homes of the future where each capsule would be replaceable. Half a century later he discovered that no one knew how to repair them In Xataka | The incredible story of the tallest building on the planet that ended up becoming the largest swimming pool in the Soviet Union