Henrik Frode Obel was only ever an amateur enthusiast of architecture, but he has come to have an outsize impact on the field. Born into a prominent and wealthy Danish family, he preferred to go abroad to make his fortune, rather than stay at home and inherit. The venture gave him financial freedom and—as a seasoned traveler, a bon vivant with a keen eye for aesthetics and a friend of the architect and Sydney Opera House designer, Jørn Utzon—an enduring love of architecture. 

When he died in 2014, Obel left his fortune to the foundation that bears his name, with the goal of promoting architecture as a force for change, most notably through the annual OBEL Award.

“It was very important to him that architecture was not just seen as an aesthetic object, but as something of value for future generations,” explains Jamiee Touveneau Williams, head of Projects and Partnerships at OBEL. “He wanted to reward and recognize the potential of architecture not only as a social construct or shaper, but also as something that preserves culture and heritage.”

Unlike most prizes, the OBEL Award is not application-based. Instead, it relies on a network of around 50 anonymous scouts—architects, academics and climatologists, among others—who are spread across 30 countries. Each year, they are asked by OBEL’s executive director, Jesper Eis Eriksen, to nominate projects or practices in line with a theme chosen by the jury. “We try to unfold what architecture is and understand its plurality,” explains Monique Schröder, head of Brand and Communications. “Architecture is not just the design of a building. It can be an idea, an innovation, a process. We’ve never awarded simply a building or an architect.”

The scope of the award is reflected in its recent winners. In 2023, landscape architect Kate Orff was honored for Living Breakwaters, a coastal defense project off Staten Island conceived after Hurricane Sandy. The project used oysters as natural breakwaters to buffer storm surges, and combined ecological restoration with political lobbying and deep community engagement. “She was in the trenches with lobbyists, trying to change policy to secure funding for climate resilience,” Williams says. “It wasn’t just about design—it was about mobilizing a community and shaping legislation.”

In 2025, the award went to HouseEurope!, a nonprofit initiative campaigning to reform European legislation and make renovation more financially attractive than demolition. “It’s urgent work,” says Schröder, “because demolition has a huge impact on the environment, materials, people and neighborhoods.” That urgency persuaded the jury even though the campaign’s outcome remains uncertain: HouseEurope! needs one million signatures by the end of January 2026 to bring the issue to the European Parliament. “We are not afraid to award something unfinished,” says Schröder. “It’s about long-term impact and scalability.”

In an industry awash with prizes for glittering, multimillion-dollar projects, the OBEL Foundation positions itself differently. “There are so many architecture awards, some for profit, some for media, some with different purposes,” says Williams. “What’s nice about ours is that you don’t need to be a big name. You can win because you’re trying to change something. It shows younger practices that it’s okay to be purpose-driven.”

Support extends beyond the €100,000 ($115,000) prize. Winners receive follow-up funding to advance their work, as well as practical help with communications and connections. Sam Draper and Barney Shanks, the material scientists who won in 2022, were developing carbon-neutral concrete. “The award enabled them to find funding and even set up a lab,” Williams recalls. “We’re not investors, but we can act like an early-stage supporter, building the network they need.”

Architecture is becoming an increasingly interdisciplinary field—intertwining climatology, material science, activism and policy—and the foundation sees its role as connecting dots. “Every year we pick a focus that reflects what’s most relevant at the time,” Williams says. “In the future, we’ll have an archive of these themes and submissions, mapping how architecture has responded to society’s challenges.”

For Schröder, communication is equally critical. “We don’t want to speak only to architects. We want to shift the public perception of what architecture is. It’s not just glossy buildings. It’s something everyone lives in and shapes together.”

That message, voiced through exhibitions, biennale events and fellowships, may unfold slowly, but OBEL believes it will endure. “You can’t rush gentleness and care,” Schröder says. “We’re a modest foundation with a modest endowment. But we hope to create more relationships, more community and more impact—exactly as Henrik Frode Obel intended.”