Fundamento Modular-Strength in Homes, Unity in Living

The border region is a place of arrival, uncertainty, and transition — where many migrants seeking safety and opportunity instead face instability, temporary shelters, or unsafe informal housing. In response, I developed Fundamento Modular: a replicable, low-cost housing system rooted in structure, community, and adaptability. The name comes from the Spanish word for “foundation,” reflecting both its architectural strategy and its deeper ambition — to create places where stability and belonging can take root.

At its core, Fundamento Modular introduces a reinforced concrete framework of stacked structural bays, into which prefabricated housing modules are craned, joined, and serviced. The system draws inspiration from traditional vecindad housing, reimagined through modular construction, passive cooling techniques like solar chimneys, and elevated walkways that foster shared living and layered privacy.

But this is not just about shelter — it's about infrastructure for living. Units are organized to form communal courtyards and corridors, while the ground floors are activated by essential spaces: childcare centers, shared laundries, and flexible areas that support daily life and local work. One of the four buildings is a dedicated community hub, reflecting the project's goal of helping migrants' transition not only into homes, but into stable and supported lives.

The design was iterated through multiple digital and physical models — from early SketchUp massing studies to hand-built prototypes using salvaged materials and finally detailed in Revit. BIM tools were used not just for documentation, but to test prefabrication logic, cost efficiency, and spatial flexibility at every step.

Fundamento Modular is a prototype built for real-world conditions — a housing system designed for cities facing socio-economic displacement, where strength in homes can lead to unity in living.

Hardware

1. Camera – Sony Alpha a6400 (used for documenting physical models)
2. Laptop – Dell G15 Gaming Laptop (primary machine for modeling, rendering, and post-production)

Software

1. Autodesk Revit – Main BIM platform used for final modeling, documentation, scheduling, and section/3D views
2. SketchUp – Early concept massing and design iterations (Versions 1–11)
3. Adobe Illustrator – site graphics
4. Twinmotion – Environmental visualization, daylighting, and material studies
5. Google Earth – Initial site exploration and final site research
6. Adobe Photoshop – Used briefly in early post-production attempts before switching to Illustrator

Physical Tools

1. Drafting Pencils & Markers – Used for initial sketches, design notes, and overlays
2. X-Acto Knife & Ruler – For cutting foam, cardboard, and basswood in physical model making
3. Hot Glue Gun / Wood Glue – Assembly of physical models
4. Plaster & Scrap Wood – Materials used in final physical massing model

Enjoy this short cinematic glimpse of Fundamento Modular, made in Twinmotion.

A quick preview before the full story unfolds.

In the 1980s, my father stayed with his stepbrother in Tijuana, in a small house where you could see the border from the window. Back then, the line between the U.S. and Mexico felt thinner—two sister nations divided more by circumstance than by walls. He remembers people waiting in shelters of tarp and wood, hoping for their chance to cross. It was the beginning of a crisis he didn’t yet have words for. Now, decades later, that crisis hasn’t gone away—only grown harder to ignore.

Tijuana’s population reached approximately 1.92 million in 2020, ranking it among Mexico’s largest border cities and as the most populous municipality in Baja California. Between 2010 and 2020, the city experienced nearly 20% growth, driven by internal migration, deportees from the United States, and asylum seekers from Central America and beyond. Many arrive seeking safety and opportunity but find themselves in a housing market struggling to keep pace.

This surge has intensified pressure on affordable housing, leading to rapid expansion of informal settlements built from salvaged materials and lacking essential services like clean water, sanitation, and electricity.

Large-scale investments such as Amazon’s 2021 fulfillment center in the Nueva Esperanza neighborhood have brought economic activity but also increased land values, making affordable housing even less accessible. Surrounding communities continue to face infrastructure deficits—including unpaved roads and inadequate sewage systems.

This tension between rapid growth, corporate investment, and infrastructural scarcity underscores the urgent need for adaptable, affordable housing solutions. The modular, prefabricated housing strategy of this project directly addresses these challenges by offering scalable, resilient options tailored to Tijuana’s unique social and economic realities.

Shelters like Casa del Migrante and Pastor Albert Rivera’s facility have capacities of approximately 140 and 1,300 people respectively. Yet usage fluctuates widely, with many beds often unoccupied due to shifting migration flows and systemic limitations.

This reflects a deeper crisis: the lack of permanent housing options. Many residents remain trapped in temporary shelter systems that do not offer stability or pathways to independence. Without permanent addresses, access to formal employment, healthcare, and education remains severely restricted, perpetuating cycles of vulnerability.

Shelters can become overcrowded, compromising privacy and safety—especially for women, children, and elders. Rather than refuge, these spaces often feel like holding areas lacking the infrastructure necessary for recovery and growth.

The housing system proposed here aims to close this gap by providing modular, prefabricated units that can rapidly expand stable housing capacity. By emphasizing dignity, safety, and permanence, the project offers a tangible alternative to prolonged shelter dependence and builds foundations for resilient communities.

Tijuana’s housing crisis is met with commendable efforts from NGOs like Esperanza de México, which are pioneering affordable housing projects tailored to local needs. Yet these initiatives remain constrained by limited funding and scale.

Historically, the Mexican federal government played a significant role in affordable housing production, but recent policy shifts and budget reductions have drastically curtailed this involvement. This withdrawal has created a critical gap in support for the city’s most vulnerable residents.

Effective government engagement—including strategic investment, zoning reform, and regulatory enforcement—is essential to enable scalable housing solutions. Without coordinated public-sector action, localized efforts struggle to meet the overwhelming demand.

Large corporate developments, including Amazon’s fulfillment center, have contributed to rising land prices and displacement pressures. While such investments stimulate economic growth, they have also intensified challenges to housing affordability and stability in surrounding neighborhoods.

When formal housing and shelters are inaccessible, many migrants and low-income residents resort to makeshift homes constructed from scrap wood, tarps, and metal sheets. These improvised settlements cluster densely on city outskirts or in abandoned lots, lacking basic infrastructure such as clean water, sanitation, electricity, and waste management.

The absence of legal land tenure leaves residents vulnerable to eviction or forced displacement without notice, compounding their precarity.

Living in these conditions exposes families to severe health risks, environmental hazards, and high rates of violence. Yet, for many, these settlements remain the only option available.

These realities make clear the urgent need for housing solutions that provide dignity, safety, and permanence—a goal this project directly confronts through innovative modular design and community-oriented strategies.

Once I chose Tijuana as the city, I knew I wanted my project near the U.S.-Mexico border—not just for proximity, but to send a message. The border is not only a line of division but a point of entry, tension, and hope. Some sites right along the line were too small for the scale I envisioned; I wasn’t designing for one household—I was designing a system to house many.

I remembered the first time I crossed into Tijuana and saw the tall steel arch rising above the city—a landmark known to many migrants. After researching its symbolic importance, I became convinced the site had to be nearby. Seeing that the San Ysidro border crossing—one of the busiest in the world—was just minutes away only confirmed that decision. Then I saw something unexpected: a school of architecture down the same street. That felt like a sign.

The site I ultimately chose wasn’t an empty lot—it was a dense, oddly shaped pocket of aging homes. Most buildings were one to three stories tall, made of worn brick or bare concrete, pressed tightly along narrow streets. Though not informal housing, the conditions often felt unregulated or overlooked. A few taller buildings—rising five or six stories—stood nearby, hinting at shifting urban pressures. The northern street was just wide enough for prefabricated module delivery and crane access, while the southern alley created a more discreet zone for services and mechanical systems.

It was space in need of love. And because of its constraints—awkward geometry, uneven density, embedded life—I knew the solution couldn’t be generic. I needed a model that had already made architecture out of constraint. That brought me to the vecindad.

To root my project in Mexican housing traditions, I studied the vecindad: a historical model of urban communal living found across Mexico, especially in Mexico City and in northern cities like Tijuana. A vecindad isn’t just a building type—it’s a shared social infrastructure.

These complexes were typically arranged around central courtyards, with compact stacked units connected by open-air corridors. Kitchens and bathrooms were often shared, and units were modest—30 to 60 square meters—but life extended beyond the walls. Children played in the patios. Neighbors looked after each other’s kids. Elderly women cooked together, and informal economies formed between doorways.

Despite their richness, vecindades have often been dismissed in modern urban planning—viewed as overcrowded, underregulated, or tied to poverty. But these failures stemmed from neglect, not from the model itself. Their strongest principles—community trust, space efficiency, and everyday collaboration—remain deeply relevant.

This model didn’t just influence my thinking; it gave structure to the site. The irregular footprint and tight urban fabric demanded a design that could cluster units without losing life between them. The vecindad provided a system for organizing density while leaving space open and fresh—and for rooting the project in something deeply cultural, not imported.

In modern housing, it often feels like everything that used to bring people together has been engineered out. Shared courtyards have become empty setbacks. Kitchens are locked inside. Walkways are internalized and air-conditioned. The result is sterile, lonely, and thermally unsustainable.

From the vecindad and other traditional models, I learned what deserves to return—not for nostalgia, but because it works. Passive cooling. Shaded facades. Communal infrastructure that respects privacy without isolating people. In my project, these ideas are translated, not copied.

An elevated central plaza gives residents communal space that’s still protected and private. Units open onto open-air, passively cooled walkways. Shared laundry facilities and semi-public courtyards balance access with dignity. Even the layout responds to climate—orienting buildings to create shade and cross-ventilation, rather than relying on mechanical fixes.

My goal is not to recreate the past, but to restore its intelligence. The vecindad didn’t just inspire the system—it helped me imagine what community looks like when architecture doesn’t get in the way.

Atlas Soccer Team Academy (Guadalajara)

1. Modular Grid and Structural Clarity:

The Academy’s clear column-and-beam grid organizes spaces and creates legible circulation paths, which inspired my structural assembly strategy and circulation-focused design.

1. Blurring Interior-Exterior Boundaries:

Its use of open courtyards, shaded walkways, and landscaped plazas encourages community interaction and climate-responsive design, aligning with my walkways, planter cores, and passive cooling ideas.

1. Material Honesty and Local Context:

The use of local red brick tones and pigmented concrete ties the building to regional identity and climate, inspiring my material palette and environmental integration with recycled water and greenery.

Le Corbusier’s Dom-Ino House (1914)

1. Modular Structural System:

The Dom-Ino House introduced a simple, repeatable structural framework of slabs and columns without load-bearing walls, enabling flexibility in floor plans and future adaptation—directly influencing my modular prefab unit logic.

1. Open, Flexible Spaces:

By removing walls, the design creates open, uninterrupted interior spaces, promoting versatile usage and circulation, inspiring my approach to spatial fluidity and multipurpose living cores.

1. Prefabrication and Industrial Logic:

The Dom-Ino concept anticipated mass-produced, industrialized housing, mirroring the project’s goal to create an efficient, scalable, and prefab modular housing system.

Additional Visual Inspirations

The rest of the images included in this section are sourced from Pinterest and various architectural references. They provided valuable details such as brick paneling textures, overhead shading devices, and other smaller architectural elements that helped enrich the design vocabulary of the project. These details contributed to shaping the tactile and environmental qualities of the Fundamento Modular housing, enhancing both aesthetics and climate responsiveness.

This project reframes housing as dynamic infrastructure—a replicable system designed to deliver modular, shaded, and socially vibrant living environments for border cities and crisis zones. Rooted in Tijuana’s unique culture and climate, it transcends place-specific solutions, blending off-site prefabrication with on-site concrete framing to accelerate construction and reduce bottlenecks. This pilot illustrates a fully realized vision but remains adaptable, proving a scalable model without prescribing a single fixed outcome.

The design centers on two residential module types and a flexible suite of community modules—all crafted as Revit groups for rapid replication and adaptation:

1. The Family Module accommodates four residents with defined private and shared spaces.

1. The Roommate Module efficiently houses up to three adults with semi-private zones and shared amenities.

Complementing these are swappable community modules—clinic, daycare, water treatment, kitchen, workshop, storage, and administrative offices—that enhance livability and can be tailored to each site’s needs and budget. Prefabricated in two sections, modules are joined on-site and craned into place within the concrete frame.

Each building rises through a precise choreography of layers:

1. Cast-in-place foundations and grade beams set the base.

1. Concrete columns and beams form a robust skeletal frame.

1. Prefab modules—assembled off-site in two halves—are craned into their “cubby” slots within the grid.

1. Concrete slabs and beams are poured atop, securing the modules and preparing the next level.

This vertical assembly cycle repeats, while parallel crews simultaneously build stair bays, walkways, and mechanical systems—maximizing efficiency and eliminating downtime. The entire sequence was modeled and coordinated in Revit, anticipating crane paths, phasing, and structural integration.

A mid-rise reinforced concrete frame—footings, grade beams, vertical columns, horizontal beams, and slabs—provides a resilient, flexible grid. Prefab modules slot seamlessly into this frame without bearing load, simplifying off-site construction and reducing weight and cost.

While foundation details vary subtly per building, the structural system remains consistent, fully modeled and meticulously coordinated in BIM to align with modular units, circulation, and roofing elements.

Circulation weaves infrastructure with community. Elevated walkways bridge buildings, creating semi-public corridors that foster spontaneous encounters—echoing the rich social fabric of traditional vecindad courtyards. Staircases slice vertically through the mass with open, light-filled bays, turning circulation into moments of spatial relief and visual connection. A single, centrally located elevator core sits right at the main entrance, providing access to all floors. Two of its exterior-facing walls are clad in living grass, integrating greenery into the core circulation spine. Though constructed with standard Revit stair tools, their placement within custom daylighted bays elevates their prominence, enriching both function and experience.

The roof system actively mediates the climate through multiple integrated strategies. The tall, purpose-built solar chimneys stand prominently at key locations, designed specifically to harness the stack effect by pulling hot air upward and out of the buildings, significantly enhancing natural ventilation. Separate from these, the stair bays—though primarily circulation spaces—also function as secondary solar chimneys, aiding airflow by channeling warm air vertically. Above, perforated metal panels filter harsh sunlight, creating dynamic patterns of dappled light in the communal areas below. The exposed concrete structure’s thermal mass absorbs heat during the blazing days and gradually releases it through the cool nights, providing passive thermal comfort well suited to Tijuana’s climate. BIM modeling was essential to fine-tune the scale, placement, and effectiveness of all these elements, ensuring optimal environmental performance.

Greenery is woven into the fabric of living and gathering spaces—planters integrated into stair bays, walkways, rooftops, and terraces offer shaded retreats and soften the brutalist aesthetic. These verdant pockets recall the communal courtyards of vecindad housing, nurturing social interaction and respite from urban heat. Irrigation draws on greywater treated onsite and rainwater captured via rooftop gutters. These environmental systems, fully integrated into the BIM model and visualized in Twinmotion, enhance microclimates and foster community wellbeing.

This was the first time I let myself explore what the space could offer without overthinking the details. In the first SketchUp iteration, I created a loosely defined O-shaped layout—an enclosed ring that revealed its scale only after passing through a narrow, understated entrance. Inside, a partially formed structure sat at the center, not quite a building, more of a spatial anchor. To balance the quiet entry, I added a second, more open access point near what was imagined as the public-facing community center.

In the second iteration, I experimented with giving the smaller entrance a formal gateway, but ultimately removed it—the view into the courtyard felt more powerful without it. I also gave the central anchor more definition, evolving it into a formal building.

The initial U-shaped massing framed shaded communal courtyards, balancing privacy with openness, yet felt too monolithic. By Iteration 2, adding a second floor and prefab stacking introduced modular rhythm, but the design still sought greater spatial variety and stronger ties to the site’s climate and community needs.

Iteration 3 began opening the project up—spacing between buildings increased, greenery was introduced more deliberately, and the walkways became longer, more defined, and central to the spatial rhythm. This version explored how circulation could shape experience, softening the overall layout while still holding the system together.

Iteration 4 kept many of those ideas but introduced more architectural detail and environmental intent. Shade became a bigger priority—roof-level beams were added to create overhead cover and visual rhythm, while material changes helped distinguish public vs. semi-private zones. It marked a shift from broad moves to more careful refinement.

These iterations marked a turning point—this was when the plot size shrank, forcing a more compact layout and tighter spatial logic. I leaned fully into a monolithic direction, testing how dense the system could become without losing light, ventilation, or clarity. Buildings were pulled apart in specific moments to create strategic voids—“cubbies” where prefab units could be inserted, removed, or left open to shape space. Stair towers and shade walls began to emerge as distinct vertical elements. It was the beginning of carving intentional absence into an otherwise solid mass.

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These iterations explored a softer, more organic language—rounded steps, eased edges, and more fluid circulation through walkways and bridges. The goal was to prioritize movement, gathering, and lightness. But budget realities began pulling things back toward a more modular, cost-efficient system. A sketch from this phase captured that shift—and in its margins, the first project name ideas quietly began to appear.

In these final massing studies, playful exploration of form began to emerge, balancing a mostly squared geometry with varied volumes and voids. Stair bays were carefully placed to support circulation and ventilation, while perforated metal roofs started to appear, hinting at future shading strategies. Though the structural grid and prefab logic were still evolving, the design began taking shape visually and atmospherically. Early material ideas surfaced too, with pinkish concrete tones and hints of brutalism that would later soften into warmer reddish and pale hues. These moves set the stage for the detailed Revit model to follow.

I didn’t create just one physical model for this project—instead, I developed a series that documented the evolution of Fundamento Modular’s design, starting with early massing studies that helped clarify form, shadow, and spatial relationships.

The first two models, “Massing 1” and “Massing 2,” were built at a small scale using scrap wood and tools from my father’s workshop. Massing 1 translated an early SketchUp massing into a tangible form, allowing me to study sunlight and shadows across the site. I experimented with texture and height variation by cutting unique, randomized layers rather than stacking uniform floors, emphasizing overall mass rather than architectural detail. This tactile process confirmed the fundamental volumetric ideas and earned approval from firm I work at principal, giving me the confidence to continue.

Massing 2 refined the design, addressing issues like poor natural light penetration on ground floors. By testing reconfigured openings and building orientations, this model balanced passive cooling goals with livability. It translated digital problem-solving into physical form, clarifying how design decisions shaped the environment.

These early models were never meant as final presentations—they were experimental tools that shaped the design’s spatial and environmental logic through hands-on iteration. Together, they chart the project’s initial architectural journey, showing how physical modeling complemented digital work to solve complex challenges.

Following the early massing models, I shifted toward construction and material experimentation to prepare for the final presentation model. Initial tests with plaster-coated foam board taught me about drying times and finish quality, while mechanical assembly techniques with wood pins replaced unreliable adhesives. These experiments clarified what was feasible at scale and shaped my approach.

The final presentation model was ambitious—a 1:75 scale, “go big or go home” effort to embody the project’s systemic thinking. Using foam for the structural “bones,” thin cardboard to prevent foam melting, and basswood for facades, I built modular, stackable building cores aligned carefully to my Revit plans. Time pressures compressed the schedule, forcing me to prioritize massing and spatial clarity over fine detail.

To add contrast and monumentality, I cast stair bays and solar chimneys in plaster, despite challenges like cracking and uneven drying. These elements reinforced the project’s architectural identity while teaching me valuable lessons about material reinforcement and casting techniques.

The base combined wood and a top plaster layer embedded with crushed brick for texture and warmth—a rare moment where materiality perfectly matched my vision.

Finally, a photoshoot with my cousin in his improvised basement studio captured the model’s presence and narrative power. Despite bumps and imperfections, the model stood proudly as a physical testament to Fundamento Modular’s evolution—a tactile bridge between digital design and real-world impact.

1. Iteration 1: Stepped Walkways and Roof Gardens

The tallest building rose to five stories, with the smallest at three, establishing a varied but cohesive skyline. Roof gardens were conceptually reserved on two buildings, intended as green retreats and communal spaces, though they were not yet modeled in detail. The stepped walkways appeared only on the first floor, designed deliberately to encourage upward visual engagement and foster community interaction across levels. However, this created unintended consequences: the ceiling heights beneath these walkways became too low, resulting in cramped and uncomfortable interior volumes that compromised the quality of the living spaces.

Spatially, the complex felt loosely organized—units were scattered with generous gaps,but without a strong sense of purpose or flow. The design aimed to balance density with openness but struggled to articulate how people would move through and use these spaces.

1. Iteration 2: Lowered Heights and Emerging Programmatic Clarity

To address the ceiling height issues, the design shifted downward rather than upward, bringing buildings closer to the ground and eliminating the stepped walkways. This change improved interior spatial quality but introduced new challenges, such as water infiltration risks in the lowered first floors.

This iteration marked a transition from an unstructured layout to a more purposeful composition. Buildings felt less fragmented and more cohesive, with clearer relationships between units and shared spaces. The addition of ground-level shops introduced a vital community function, envisioned to provide employment opportunities for residents and activate street life. A wider pathway system emerged almost by necessity, expanding from mere corridors into a spacious atrium-like environment. This transformation softened the motel-like feel of earlier iterations, fostering a more inviting and communal atmosphere.

During the transition to Revit, I created a dedicated massing model to explore building heights and program density more deeply. This process was inspired directly by my trip to Puerto Vallarta, where I observed how taller buildings can enrich urban character while efficiently housing more people.

Informed by that experience, I tested three different massing iterations within one model, similar to my SketchUp workflow. This rapid iteration helped me quickly evaluate how adding height and community service modules could enhance the project’s social and spatial goals.

Ultimately, this phase allowed me to balance increasing capacity with maintaining a human scale and preserving open, shaded communal areas. The extended competition deadline gave me the time to refine these options carefully, setting the stage for the final Revit model and deeper BIM development.

The facade demanded adaptability to evolving design changes and site-specific conditions. To achieve this, I created a single parametric window family capable of resizing dynamically, eliminating the need to duplicate multiple window types as the facade proportions shifted. Inspired by Mexican brick patterns I discovered on Pinterest, I developed a custom curtain wall family composed of brick-patterned panels. This design cleverly balanced light penetration, ventilation, and privacy while reinforcing a cultural connection through its patterning. For the railings, rather than opting for traditional balusters, I engineered a custom railing profile that reads more like a low, solid wall. This minimalist design maintains compliance with safety codes while enhancing the building’s architectural language. The railings’ modular profiles were embedded into families, enabling easy reuse and integration throughout the project, thus maintaining consistency and efficiency.

Given the project’s modular complexity, I leveraged Revit’s grouping features extensively. I modeled prefab residential and community modules as groups so that I could duplicate and place them efficiently across floors and buildings. This approach minimized repetitive work and allowed global edits to propagate quickly by simply updating the group rather than manually adjusting individual units. To maintain clarity on the technical floor plans, especially with multiple module types stacked vertically, I used precise room tags linked to each group’s parameters. This combination of grouping and tagging ensured that the model remained both flexible for rapid design iteration and rich in detailed information suitable for construction documentation.

Clear communication of the complex program and structure was vital. I created section views that combined orthographic precision with perspectival depth to reveal spatial hierarchies. By applying halftone shading to less important elements, I visually de-emphasized them, while selectively highlighting key floors, program zones, and structural components using bold fills in the project’s signature blue. To avoid clutter, I substituted verbose labels with translucent color overlays paired with a concise keyed legend, improving legibility without sacrificing information. This graphic clarity extended into 3D views, which I tailored to highlight critical elements like stair circulation and the solar chimneys, allowing judges and collaborators to quickly grasp the design’s spatial and environmental strategies.

Materiality plays a profound role beyond aesthetics, linking the project to cultural identity and climate. The heavy use of concrete grounds the design in affordability, durability, and a sense of permanence—key attributes for long-term social housing. Warm brick panels punctuate the facades at strategic locations such as stair bays, entrances, and solar chimney claddings, symbolizing both heritage and personal family ties, as my grandfather was a brickmaker. White-painted stair bays reduce solar heat gain and create crisp visual contrast, enhancing facade articulation. The perforated metal roofs are modeled with precise cut patterns embedded directly into the roof geometry, supported structurally by ornamental columns that mirror the modular rhythm of the building grid. All these material and detailing decisions are fully integrated and coordinated in the BIM model, ensuring constructability and environmental performance.

Revit’s strength lies in its ability to coordinate across multiple design disciplines and iterations. I exploited this by linking multiple site and building models, grouping modular units for quick editing, and experimenting with massing options to test spatial and environmental performance. To anchor the project in its urban context, I modeled surrounding buildings based on Google Earth data, simplifying their forms into volumetric placeholders. This contextual modeling was light enough to keep the project performant but detailed enough to allow accurate shadow studies and visual integration within the neighborhood fabric. This approach supported informed decisions about building placement, height, and orientation to maximize comfort and urban fit.

The solar chimneys emerged as a critical environmental feature, acting as a passive ventilation backbone. By capturing solar heat, these chimneys generate a stack effect, pulling hot air upward and expelling it, while simultaneously drawing cool air into the lower parts of the modules. Given that most solar chimney research focuses on large, open spaces, adapting this system to the compact residential “cubbie” model was a design challenge. I reinterpreted their function as a low-tech HVAC substitute, integrating them with external airshafts that channel airflow from the residential modules toward the chimneys. This passive system reduces reliance on mechanical cooling and energy consumption, representing a pioneering application at this scale in Tijuana.

The architectural language of eco-brutalism underpins the project’s identity: merging the permanence and weight of concrete with the softness and life of nature. Vegetation isn’t a decorative afterthought but an integral, climate-responsive element woven throughout the buildings. Planters are modeled as in-place components within Revit—created by subtracting voids and applying grass flooring—and come in various shapes and scales. Some serve as functional seating benches, while others envelop existing trees or native desert plants, immersing residents in Baja’s ecology. Tall railing-integrated planters provide safety while maintaining visual access to greenery. This biophilic strategy mitigates heat, fosters social interaction, and humanizes the raw brutalist forms, striking a balance between strength and sustainability.

The structural framework consists of reinforced concrete beams, columns, and slabs designed with realistic proportions and detailing that reflect affordable construction practices. The beam sizes vary depending on their load-bearing role, grounding the design in buildability. Ornamentally, columns echo the “cubbie” module rhythm visually but also carry structural loads in key locations, notably within sheltered stair bays that double as community hubs. These columns not only support the roof and landings but also reinforce the architectural concept by visually expressing modularity, tying function and aesthetics tightly together.

Staircases posed one of the most technically demanding challenges, especially the switchback and circular types. Multiple design iterations addressed spatial constraints, railing configurations, and code compliance to ensure safe and logical egress. While not slavishly following every letter of code, the design adhered sufficiently to guarantee safety and functional integrity. The switchback stairs include intermediate landings per code, and multiple egress routes were integrated as advised by a co-worker, reinforcing the design’s pragmatism. This iterative process demonstrates how regulation can simultaneously constrain and inspire architectural solutions.

Grounded in both affordability and sustainability, the project’s design minimizes costs through offsite prefab and a phased, standardized structural system—cutting labor time and upfront investment. These savings enable investment in passive environmental strategies: thermal mass concrete, solar chimneys, and shading elements that reduce energy needs while enhancing comfort. Together, these choices create housing that’s not only economically accessible but resilient in Tijuana’s challenging climate, supporting healthier, more sustainable communities.

The site plan’s foundation was developed in Revit, where I created precise hatch patterns for roads and buildings to capture the project's urban context accurately. These Revit-generated patterns were then exported and brought into Adobe Illustrator for advanced layering and refinement. In Illustrator, I traced over the base maps, adjusted colors, and added greenery, shadows, tags, and pins using separate layers. This two-step process combined Revit’s technical precision with Illustrator’s graphic flexibility, resulting in a clear, visually compelling site plan that effectively communicates the project's relationship to the surrounding environment and the border.

The name Fundamento Modular emerged naturally from the architecture and branding process, embodying the project’s mission to establish a strong foundation—both physical and social. Fundamento means foundation, symbolizing the essential base that supports resilience and growth. Paired with Modular, it highlights the project’s flexible, repeatable construction method designed for efficiency and dignity. This name gives the project a powerful identity, expressing its commitment to building not just homes, but lasting community and opportunity. It resonates as a beacon of strength, unity, and future-focused design.

The Fundamento Modular logo is more than just letters—it embodies the essence of the project’s identity. Rooted in the initials “F” and “M,” the design evolved from the site’s unique geometry: the slanted “F” reflects the shape of the site, with its small tick marking the community center—the project’s heart. The “M” takes inspiration from the architecture’s modest entrance on the east side, framed by two large buildings symbolizing the sister nations connected through this endeavor.

Softened corners honor the original architectural sketches, bringing warmth and humanity into the logo’s form. This design was crafted in collaboration with my brother, a skilled graphic designer and alumnus of my vocational school, whose expertise brought clarity and depth to the final mark.

Together, the “F” and “M” tell a story of place, resilience, and community—an emblem that stands as a foundation for hope and transformation.

Working in Revit enabled rapid testing, precise communication, and seamless iteration, pushing the design far beyond initial concepts. Embracing prefab construction deepened my understanding of modular housing’s potential. But the most valuable lesson was shifting perspective—housing isn’t just buildings; it’s vital infrastructure that supports social stability, resilience, and community growth. This mindset shaped every design decision and fuels my commitment to impactful architecture.

Fundamento Modular isn’t a fixed solution—it’s a dynamic framework built on adaptability. Whether scaling up with taller buildings, applying the model to new sites, or responding quickly in disaster relief scenarios, the core principles and visual language I created form a robust foundation. This system invites evolution, innovation, and collaboration, laying groundwork for the future of affordable, dignified housing in Tijuana and beyond.

With the right funding, partnerships, and government support, Fundamento Modular can move beyond the drawing board. This project is poised to become a tangible, scalable housing prototype that not only shelters but strengthens communities. It embodies a vision of sustainable urban growth, social unity, and architectural integrity—a real-world solution to urgent housing needs. This is more than a student project; it’s the beginning of a transformative movement.

I am an aspiring architect with a strong passion for innovative and socially conscious design. I have competed twice before in this competition and represented my skills nationally at SkillUSA in architectural drafting. Currently, I am an active student member of the ACE Mentor Program and gaining practical experience through a co-op position at an architecture firm. This project reflects my commitment to creating meaningful housing solutions inspired by my personal story and dedication to community impact.

Thank You

Thank you for reviewing my work and supporting my journey. I’m excited to continue growing as a designer and contribute to projects that make a real difference in people’s lives.

Revit links-https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fo/ep0pz7e1d55r83aiox5po/ALJzgb8vh9x8lG_08DENALw?rlkey=6r4flotxskev3iccoerf74prv&st=9eev1bph&dl=0