Artist Issac Cordal offers us a new perspective on these issues through his provocative series of tiny cement sculptures that challenge our views of society. Isaac Cordal is famous for tackling big political issues through a tiny medium. Cordal installs the 15 to 25 cm tall sculptures in streets and public spaces across Europe, then photographs them to document their presence. Thoughtfully arranged, these miniaturized scenes are often arranged as site-specific street art interventions. This unique body of work meticulously, precariously positions tiny statuettes in the most unexpected places – on gutters, in puddles, the edges of buildings, telephone lines, fences, bus stops, even cracks in the road – in abandoned corners of urban environments. To capture his skepticism of authority, Cordal usually depicts his tiny figurines as politicians and businessmen in the process of needlessly trapping themselves in unpleasant situations. To date, Cordal has created 60 miniature environmental interventions in cities as diverse as Riga, Chiapas, Zagreb, London, Bogatá, Amsterdam, Barcelona, Málaga, Milan, Nantes, Vienna, Berlin, Brussels, San José, San Francisco, Orebro, Murcia.
The Theme of Climate Change in Cement Eclipse
The ongoing work — called “Cement Eclipses” — is meant as social critique, he explains to Phaidon:
It refers to this collective inertia that leads us to think that our small actions cannot change anything. But I believe that every small act can contribute to a big change. Many small changes can bring back social attitudes that manipulate the global inertia and turn it into something more positive. 
Without any clues from the author, the social media users have dubbed this tiny puddle sculpture by Spanish street artist Isaac Cordal “Politicians discussing global warming.” The image has gone viral on Facebook, Twitter and was spreaded all around the Internet. With sea levels projected to rise up to three feet by the end of the century, the picture seems to be a dark reminder of our collective failure to act on climate change. While “Politicians discussing global warming” turns out to be a misnomer, it’s surprisingly attuned to Cordal’s vision.  As design professor Stuart Candy comments on his blog:
Intriguing how one audience member recontextualising the artist’s work with an alternative title (whether accidentally or deliberately doesn’t really matter) gives that work startling potency and a new lease of life. 
Waiting for Climate Change
Cordal has even addressed climate change in some of his past work. A 2012 installation — “Waiting for climate change” — depicts tiny figures along the Belgian coastline confronting global warming with varying degrees of concern. Described as a “Lilliputian army which attests to the end of an era” by David Moinard. In this series Cordal created a set of ephemeral and partially submerged installations to draw attention to rising sea level change. Laced with black humor, these grim and apocalyptic scenes show the consequences of inaction and apathy to environmental issues. The theme of rising floodwaters and drowning are themes repeated throughout his work that reference both climate change and the state of our sinking society. [3a]
A 2013 installation of the same name depicts life-sized figures in business suits floating in the Château des Ducs de Bretagne moat, in France. “Impassive and blasé, they absently watch the water level rise,” notes the artist’s website. 
Of course it’s not all of Cordal’s interventions that address the question of climate change directly. But every one forces critical reflection upon the ecological impact of our irresponsible consumer behaviour, which is directly responsible for the exploitation of finite natural resources. As an existential artist, Cordal is obsessed with the question: What are we doing to our world? 
In addition, Cordal perched 10 small figurines atop wooden pedestals, wearing scuba goggles or flotation devices, gazing impassively at the horizon. Still others occupy empty rooms in a dilapidated 1930’s-era beachfront villa. Painted in drab business suits, most of Cordal’s anonymous clay figurines clutch vestiges of their uniform existence: briefcases and cell phones. Many also wear life preservers around their waists and arms, ready for the flood. Cordal’s docile figures remind me of Huxley’s soma-induced Brave New World, where everyone (except the emotional Shakespeare-inspired Savage) is submissive, obedient, and acquiescent.