The Harvard Graduate School of Design (GSD) just announced a new 12-month degree called the Master in Real Estate (MRE). Here's a short excerpt about the program:

The MRE program is designed to train future practitioners to address new and urgent realities facing the built environment and cities today. Whether undertaken by for-profit businesses, not-for-profit organizations, or public entities, real estate occupies a pivotal role in determining how the places where we live, work, and play are equitable, environmentally sustainable, and appealing, in addition to being productive for the economy.

The key takeaways are that this is a graduate program being designed for aspiring real estate entrepreneurs and that it will live within Harvard's Graduate School of Design. So there is an implicit recognition that the world of real estate doesn't need to run counter to the pedagogical goals of a design school.

Anyone who went to architecture school will tell you that real estate is often viewed as the "dark side." Either you commit yourself to the pure world of architecture and design, or you sell out and seek profits in the world of real estate. But I have always considered this to be a false dichotomy.

Real estate is a fundamental component of how we shape our built environment. And so if one's ambitions are to improve the built environment -- which is something that architecture schools do teach you -- why should the delivery vehicle matter? Shouldn't we be encouraging people to optimize for maximum benefit?

I completed my undergraduate degree in architecture. But very early on I had the feeling that I was only getting one piece of a larger picture. And so I went to the University of Pennsylvania for graduate school and completed a degree that combined both architecture and real estate. My goal was to figure out a way to combine both passions. Maybe I'd become the next Jonathan Segal.

Penn was very open to cross-disciplinary studies at the time (this was the mid-2000s), but there was still a gaping divide between the school of design and the business school. Walking across campus meant taking off one hat and putting on another. There wasn't a lot of overlap.

After school, I returned to Toronto and started working in development. I then decided to pursue my MBA part-time, which really wasn't necessary for my career, but was probably driven by some sort of insecurity I felt at Penn. I was the outsider design student (with funny glasses I might add) trying to keep up with Wharton MBAs.

I went back to the University of Toronto for my MBA and thoroughly enjoyed it. But I still couldn't understand why there was such little overlap between the design school and the business school when it came to matters of the built environment. The real estate courses at Rotman were also extremely limited at the time.

So I started talking to faculty members: What would it took to create a joint real estate program that lived somewhere between the design school and the business school? I offered to help and I tried to press upon everyone that this was a gaping void and a huge opportunity. Canada was falling behind in terms of real estate education. It was time to step up.

The answer I got was generally always twofold: (1) Rotman's real estate courses were already good enough and (2) it's pretty hard to start a new program at the University. You have to do a bunch of things, one of which includes finding money. So, sorry.

Harvard's new Master in Real Estate degree is the kind of program I had in mind. So I'm happy to see others taking action. And I ultimately think it will be a good thing for our cities.

If you'd like to apply, you can do that starting this fall.

San Diego-based Jonathan Segal is a unique kind of builder in that his firm doesn't have any clients. They act as both the architect and developer for all of their projects. This gives them a lot of control over the building process, but also more freedom to experiment.

ULI recently interviewed Segal about his micro-housing project on 320 West Cedar Street in San Diego's Little Italy (called The Continental). And I think it's a pretty interesting case study for us to discuss here on the blog.

It's a 5,000 sf corner site, and Segal developed it with 42 micro units (5 of which are priced at 65% of AMR), two retail spaces at grade, and a separate "single-family townhouse" for his son that sits on top of the retail space at the corner.

The idea was to create relatively affordable "workforce" housing, which is why there's also minimal parking. The 37 market-rate units are currently priced between $1,595 and $1,995 per month, and the affordable ones are about $900 per month.

Segal is forthright in the interview in saying that leasing velocity was slow following completion in December 2019. It was hard to rent these kinds of units in San Diego without any parking. But he viewed the project as an experiment and eventually he did find product-market fit.

The mix of housing types here is also noteworthy. Presumably his son could have just gone out and built a more typical grade-related home. But why do that when you can build on top of an urban retail space and add 42 other homes to the lot?

Witold Rybczynski's recent blog post about architecture's "curious business model" gets at one of the core challenges of new construction: "Every project is, in effect, a custom job; there are no real economies of scale." There are also no reoccurring cash flows for the architect, Witold explains, unlike a writer who might earn ongoing royalties or a business owner whose wealth will grow as the business grows.

There are two items to discuss here: (1) The "curious business model" used in the practice of architecture and (2) the inefficiencies of construction.

The first one is not unique to architecture. You could say the same thing about the planning and real estate lawyers who also work on new buildings. But I take Witold's point in that even a painter's work could appreciate in value after it's done, whereas there's typically no mechanism for any of this to accrue (to the architect) in the world of architecture.

When I was young, I was told that there are two ways to make money. You can either trade your time for money or you can own assets that make you money. An example of the latter might be a farm where the tenant farmer pays you rent every month. You're not trading your time by actually doing the farming, you just own the asset.

This may seem obvious, but it's fundamental. And it's one of the reasons why, when I was in architecture school, I admired the practices of people like Jonathan Segal out of San Diego. Jonathan is one of the pioneers of the "architect as developer" approach. He simply became his own client and started building his own projects.

Moving on to topic number two.

Everyone in the business of building new buildings is looking for repeatable methodologies. Many have thought: How do we make the construction of buildings more like the assembly of cars? How do we create a standardized kit of parts? And that has lead to longstanding efforts around prefabrication. Today, as you know, we are also looking at how 3D printing might make this easier/cheaper.

In some ways, that is happening. There are examples of prefabrication and panelization, and there are developers who are using this approach. (See H+ME Technology.) But for the most part, we still build on site and it's still a messy process with lots of waste and inefficiencies. If there was a cheaper and more effective way to do it, the industry would certainly move in that direction. Eventually that will happen.

In the meantime, we will continue building our prototypes.

Photo by Ivan Bandura on Unsplash