In the heart of Westlake, a working-class, predominantly Latino neighborhood in Central Los Angeles, about 50 tiny houses have been set up on a plot of land on the edge of a parking lot. It's a village for homeless people, with a fence that prevents us from seeing inside. Elsewhere, one would suspect shameful or secret activity. But in Los Angeles, where cafe terraces are lined with rolls of barbed wire, art galleries thrive in the shadow of storage buildings and villas with blank walls signal the wealth of their owners, fences are a sign of distinction.

"It guarantees the safety of the residents," said Deborah Weintraub, the city's chief architect, who is piloting the Tiny Home Villages that have been springing up in various parts of the city over the past two years. "The other day, one of them said to me, 'That's it, we've got our own gated community.' It was a joke, but there was a hint of pride in his voice."

From one village to the next, the design may vary, but the model is the same: prefabricated plastic shacks, 5 square meters in size, one or two beds inside, a shelf and a large bin for storing belongings. Showers are communal. Designed for stays of three or four months, they are an alternative to the large tents and small hotel rooms that typified the city's temporary accommodations offering until now. "The aim is for people to stabilize and then move on to permanent housing." At Westlake, the houses are white, but the floors are multicolored, as are the picnic tables and their umbrellas. "Color is the best way to make something out of nothing," said Michael Lehrer, the development's architect. "It's the idea of the Hollywood sign planted on the hill, which you can see from far away in the city: something very simple, with a very strong impact." He assumes that residents will appreciate it.

Risk of recurrence

The colors also appeal to nearby residents, who are often hostile to the arrival of underprivileged groups. It's the NIMBY phenomenon ("not in my backyard"). Hence everything about the project is designed to make it more palatable: building on undevelopable land, the low cost of the houses ($10,000) and the fact that the whole thing can be dismantled. "We're selling the thing as temporary," explained the architect. "It's easier to make it permanent once people have seen that it's going well."

In the village in Westlake, journalists are not allowed to talk to residents. The visit was accompanied by an employee of Urban Alchemy, the NGO responsible for managing the site. "Don't be fooled by the ultra-secure entrance, this isn't a prison!" he trumpeted. Residents are free to come and go as they please, but inside, there are rules. No drugs. Weapons, which everyone in the country, homeless or not, has the right to possess, must be deposited in a locker at the entrance. Blood pressure and temperature readings are taken every hour, including when sleeping – every half-hour for those suffering from severe addictions. "It's for their own safety," the guide said. "We don't want to end up with a dead body."

You have 66.97% of this article left to read. The rest is for subscribers only.