There isn’t a whiff of uninspired institutional drabness at the Durham Region-financed transitional housing complex of Beaverton Heights.Doublespace Photography
It’s surprisingly easy to find a dozen online articles or videos with titles such as “Why Modular Has Not Clicked in Commercial Construction” or “Why Modular Building Hasn’t Revolutionized Construction.”
Writing in the Harvard Business Review in 2023, Mark Erlich begins with a 1926 quote by Walter Gropius predicting a “fundamental shift” towards “industrialization,” hinting that it’s doubtful the Bauhaus school founder thought that shift would take a century … or more. In every piece, authors list the known advantages of modular – controlled climate, assembly line speed, viewing the almost-finished-product before delivery and almost zero waste – and the unanticipated roadblocks that have occurred since, such as the “steep learning curve” and “snafus with design, manufacturing, transportation and assembly,” writes Sebastian Obando in the Construction Management Association of America newsletter MCX.
And then there’s that moniker, “modular,” which Finch Buildings founder Jurrian Knijtijzer is quoted as saying in the Financial Times, “still sounds temporary. People think it lacks quality, or that there might be something wrong with it.”
Familiarity with the unique construction processes, with the wildly different timelines from stick-built, and with how modular can be made to look permanent – and even sexy – is key, then. If only there were a firm in Ontario able to deliver the goods.
1/12
“We’ve done nine of these now,” says architect Daniel Ling, a principal at Montgomery Sisam, “and we certainly have seen the ones where everything has gone well and the stars are aligned, and you get the approvals when you’re supposed to and the site servicing was there.”
Mr. Ling and his colleague, Enda McDonagh, a certified Passive House consultant, are sitting in a wide, sunlit corridor connecting the high-ceiling community hub building to the 47 bachelor-suites that make up the new Beaverton Heights at 121 9 Mile Rd. in Beaverton, Ont., which was manufactured by NRB Modular Solutions/ATCO Structures in the autumn of 2022. Completing our little tour group is Durham Region asset management co-ordinator Jacek Sochacki and Erin Valant, Durham Region director of housing services.
Before Mr. Ling can finish his thought, a loud, clattering crash pierces the air, followed by laughter: it’s the no-bake cookie class finishing up in the hub’s commercial kitchen. Just some mixing bowls, however – the cookies are safe.
“It can be fast,” Mr. Ling starts up again with a smile, “eight, nine months … that is possible; but we also see a lot of instances where there are unknown factors … and it drags on longer than we want.”
With Beaverton Heights, a Durham Region-financed transitional housing complex of 38,000 square feet, community resistance jammed a spoke in the wheel of progress for approximately a year because of “the stigma,” says Mr. Ling. “The one location we got a different reception [for] was the one that we’re doing now in Kensington Market” (35 Bellevue Ave., Toronto).
Look at how the finished product sits, gently, on the semi-forested site and it’s hard to understand what all the fuss was about. While the complex does come somewhat close to single-family homes on Maplewood Avenue, the architects have placed the less massive, non-residential, steel module community-use building at the front of the lot and created a further buffer with the corridor (made up of one module) that leads to the back-of-lot, three-storey, wood module residential building.
One of the courtyards tucked between the main structures.Tom Ridout/Tom Ridout
Plus, by tucking things in here and there to create forecourts and a dining terrace, by changing the cladding, and by creating a raised, rhythmic grid on the residential portion (which also hides connections between modules), a very, very handsome building now exists where there was once an empty field almost devoid of trees.
“Why does affordable housing need to look affordable?” asks Mr. Ling rhetorically. “Why can’t it be something that fits into this context?”
“We hear that from so many different [people],” adds Mr. McDonagh. “‘Hey, I like the concept of modular, I just don’t want it to look like modular’ [and] that’s on us to figure that out through design.”
Inside, despite the necessity of standardization and durable finishes, there isn’t a whiff of uninspired institutional drabness. Rather, things range from open and airy to cozy and private: “Little areas, little vignettes,” says Mr. Sochacki. “Maybe I’m going to sit on the terrace here, [or] we’ve got spaces in the back, we’ve got spaces inside. … It just allows people to find their own space with the building.”
And, despite what seems like a ridiculously low 15 per cent glazing, natural light floods into all parts of the complex. That small window percentage, however, helps Montgomery Sisam hit some very tough sustainability targets, aided by a heat pump water heating system (SANCO2), 308 solar panels on the sloped roof (not typical of modular, so the architects had to fight for it; estimates are these will produce between 35 to 40 per cent of the required energy for the complex), PTAC units (packaged terminal air conditioner) with integrated heat pumps in each suite, and common spaces connected to ERVs (energy recovery ventilators). This, says Mr. McDonagh, brings the project in at “40 per cent more efficient than the building code.”
Despite having only 15 per cent glazing, natural light floods into all parts of the complex.Doublespace Photography
Which is all fine and good, but not worth the paper the report is printed on if people don’t enjoy living there. Touring a typical, tidy, 400-square-foot unit – complete with an induction stove, pots and pans, fridge, bed and a nice bathroom – Ms. Valant reassures us that while Beaverton Heights has been open for less than a year, residents are raving.
“It feels like a home. … It also feels to residents that it’s just a place that they’re living like any other market-rent apartment building,” she says.
“They don’t know why, but it just feels right to them,” Mr. Sochacki finishes with a smile.