Else Beekman
Catalan artist Josep Piñol earns €1.6 million in carbon credits by not building a large-scale artwork in the Amazon, highlighting deep flaws in voluntary carbon markets.
What if a work of art is worth more by never being created? This is the provocative idea behind artist Josep Piñol’s latest project. It’s an installation in the Amazon that will never exist. In doing so, he has drawn attention to the controversial practices underpinning voluntary carbon credit markets, where companies can earn environmental credentials simply by not carrying out activities that would emit greenhouse gases.
Ahead of the COP30 climate summit, set to take place in November in Belém, Brazil, Piñol proposed a striking installation: 100 faceless bronze figures in business suits standing on coffins-turned-CO₂ capture modules. The sculptures were to represent the anonymous, interchangeable decision-makers behind roughly 90% of global emissions.
But the project’s real power lies in its absence
At a performance held last Saturday at the Fundació Antoni Tàpies in Barcelona, part of the Museu Habitat series curated by Manuel Borja-Villel, Piñol publicly committed, before a notary, not to build the installation. As a result, he claims to have avoided the emission of 57,765 tonnes of CO₂ equivalent. These ‘non-emissions’ have been certified as carbon credits valued at €1.6 million.
These credits, used by companies to offset their actual emissions, can be used to bolster claims of “net-zero” sustainability. Critics argue this is a form of greenwashing, allowing polluters to buy a clean conscience without making real changes.
Piñol calls the system a modern-day “papal indulgence”—a way to purchase the right to sin. “It’s like buying permission to pollute,” he says.
The business of not polluting
Carbon markets play a central role in global climate policy. Since the 1997 Kyoto Protocol, regulated markets such as the EU Emissions Trading System have imposed a clear cost on pollution: companies must buy credits (1 credit = 1 tonne of CO₂) if they exceed their emission limits. This creates an incentive to reduce emissions and rewards low emitters.
Alongside these are voluntary carbon markets, which are less transparent. In these systems, companies can buy credits generated from projects that prevent emissions, such as reforestation or renewable energy schemes. Prices here fluctuate based on supply and demand, and oversight is often limited.
According to Piñol, the concept itself isn’t inherently bad. “If used properly, these markets can lead to real climate improvements,” he says. “The problem is when they become a loophole instead of a tool.”
A 2023 investigation by The Guardian and others revealed that 90% of credits issued by Verra—the world’s leading carbon credit certifier—were effectively worthless and could even worsen global warming. Major companies like Disney, Shell, Gucci, and easyJet were among the users.
Piñol’s project aims to expose the absurdity and moral ambiguity of this system. “A company can generate a fake threat, say, to deforest part of the Amazon, and then earn credits simply by not doing it,” he explains. “It’s a market of hypothetical pollution.”
“Absence speaks louder than bronze”
Originally, Piñol fully intended to create the artwork. With support from investors, the project secured over €18 million in funding. But partway through development, he had a change of heart: “What if I avoid it instead?”
He then built a parallel project: a self-managed certification body using international standards to value the environmental impact of not building the installation. An independent auditor verified the methodology, confirming the emissions that would have been released and their market value.
For Piñol, the physical sculptures matter “relatively little.” Instead, he focuses on what the project teaches. “If I can generate credits from avoiding this, imagine what a multinational can do,” he says.
He has vowed not to sell or use the vast majority of the credits. Only one tonne will be sold to a private collector. The rest will be relinquished—rendered unusable in corporate reports or carbon trading. “I’ve released them so they cannot become objects of speculation,” he says.
He also questions the logic behind limitless carbon credits. “Where do these tonnes come from?” he asks. Even cryptocurrencies or fiat currencies have regulated limits. “If we could create money infinitely, it would lose all value.”
A matter of belief
The carbon markets might seem a world apart from Piñol’s previous work, but he sees a unifying theme: belief. In 2024, he sparked controversy with Santa Baldana, a sculpture of the Virgin Mary surrounded by black pudding sausages, carried in procession through Tortosa. That work led to a court case over religious offence.
Piñol sees the same dynamic at play in his latest project. “It’s all about faith—faith in a divine presence, or in a system that claims to offset pollution,” he argues. “It’s a secular indulgence, rooted in our Catholic tradition. You pay to keep polluting.”
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