Jerome Mesnager is a French artist who made his name during the 80s with a spree of stencil art featuring a distinctive “white man” resembling an artist’s mannequin.

Although most of his pieces were removed within weeks or days, his prolific output means that there are still many classic examples to be found on the streets of Paris and its eastern suburbs.

The remaining pieces are mostly those which were commissioned by shop owners, such as on the window of a hair salon and outside the restaurant L’Émile (where the man is inexplicably wrestling a zebra).

Elsewhere in Paris, we’re lucky that the Street View car visited during lunchtime so we can see further examples on shop shutters. The man is painting pictures at a toy store on rue de l’arbalète and leaping for joy at an art gallery on rue de Montreuil.

The leaping continues at Mesnager’s workshop in Montreuil (right at the east of Paris), and two-storeys up at the Hôtel des Académies (where Mesnager also used the white man to decorate the interior).

Finally, a walk up the rue de Ménilmontant gives us even more Mesnager from here to there and even up there.

There’s doubtless many more of Mesnager’s pieces that we’ve missed, so have a hunt around Paris and leave a comment with your findings.

Unfortunately, there’s no English translation of the French Wikipedia article, neither of his official website, but be sure to check this flickr pool about the artist.

Thanks to Eric from Paris Daily Photo.

This enormous hexagon, a mile and a half in diameter, looks like some kind of massive occult symbol etched in the scrub on the remote western coast of Australia, 700 miles north of Perth.

In fact, we’re looking at a communication station that transmits on the very low frequency (VLF) radio waveband to vessels of the US and Australian navies.

The facility, opened in 1967, consists of 13 guyed steel radio masts: one at the centre, and one at each corner of the inner and outer hexagons. (Street View gives a dizzying perspective from the base of one of them.) The central tower, known as Tower Zero, is 1,273 feet tall¹, meaning that for the first nine years of its life it was the tallest structure in the southern hemisphere.²

Initially, the station was operated solely by the US Navy, and the nearby town of Exmouth was built to service it and house servicemen’s families. For the first year of its operation, it was known as US Naval Communication Station North West Cape, after the promontory where it is located, but it was renamed in honour of the Australian prime minister who disappeared while swimming off a beach in Victoria³.

From 1975 the site was jointly run by the American and Australian navies, but in 1992 US personnel were withdrawn, and by 2002 the last Australian naval staff had left and operations were taken over by Boeing Australia.

Today, tourism seems to have a more important role in the life of Exmouth: visitors can tour public areas of the base, as well as exploring the gorges of the Cape Range National Park and snorkelling with manta rays and whale sharks in Ningaloo Marine Park.

The communication station still attracts controversy, however. Over the past few years, at least five aircraft have developed problems with their ADIRUs (instruments that supply the control systems with vital flight data) while in the general vicinity of the base. The most serious incident occurred last year, when more than 100 people on board Qantas flight 72 were injured when the plane went into a sharp dive.

Could the extremely powerful radio signals from the masts possibly cause interference? Some people think so, and the Australian Transport Safety Bureau has been looking into a possible link, but the official word is that transmissions from the base are “highly unlikely” to be responsible. That probably won’t keep the conspiracy theorists quiet, though…

Read more about the communications station at Wikipedia and the Shire of Exmouth site.

Welcome to the second annual GSS Desert Week! In time-honoured tradition, we’ll mostly be posting about deserts. For about a week!

It appears that snow has fallen in hell! At least it has along “The Devil’s Highway“. Let’s take a drive down former US Route 666 to see what kind of trouble we can get into.

Beginning in the mile high state of Colorado and running south through the Sonoran desert, the demonically-named road ends in Douglas, Arizona along the Mexican border.

This highway was of course named for bearing the Number of the Beast, but a high number of vehicular fatalities attached a stigma to the road that persists, despite it having been renamed in 2003. This may have been due in part to a serious bout of “chronic sign theft“.

Theft along the Devil’s Highway you say? To be expected for sure!

There’s definitely some sort of dark magic happening on the highway, as you can see in this aerial shot south of Gallup, New Mexico, where the road has been sliced into two parts, which run alongside but never into each other¹!

While the route number and nickname draw many tourists on their own, many often stop by to see another spectacular sight, the Shiprock rock formation (Wikipedia). It’s close enough to the road that even the Street View car got a good look!

“The day it snows in hell” appears to have arrived in this shot as well, as there is clearly snow on the ground right in the middle of America’s hottest desert.

Like Route 666, the Sonoran desert stretches from the Mexican border to Colorado; covering an impressive 311,000 square km. It’s home to dozens of mammal, fish and amphibian species, hundreds of bird species, and thousands of native bee and plant species; as well as America’s only population of Jaguars!

It is also the only place in the world the famous saguaro cactus grows, despite being an international symbol for deserts.²

Route 666 and the Sonoran desert are in an area of extremes. In the day the sun scorches down on all weary travellers. At night the heat dissipates to the point that there is often snow on the ground by morning. You fall asleep sweating, you wake up freezing.

So consider yourself warned. The desert is is desolate, rugged, and rough. But come on! If you’re going to travel the Devil’s Highway, you going to face some evils, right?

Ah, the English summer: Pimm’s on the lawn, sandcastles on the beach, socks inside sandals, and the gentle sound of leather on willow. Yes, along with tennis, the nation’s sporting thoughts at this time of year turn to cricket - and, this month, to the Twenty20 World Cup.

Cricket mystifies many people from outside the former British Empire¹. Quite apart from its arcane terminology (googlies and doosras; backward short leg and silly mid off), some struggle to see the appeal of a game where you can play for five days and still end up with a draw.

In recent years though, a new and - dare we say it? - more exciting form of the game has become increasingly popular. In Twenty20 cricket, as the name suggests, each side bats for only 20 overs² and essentially just tries to slog the ball for as many runs as possible. Purists complain that this takes all the finesse out of the game and could spell the death of Test cricket³, but many fans are just happy to be able to watch a complete match without having to take a week off work…

2009’s Twenty20 World Cup, the second in the event’s history⁴, is being contested by 12 nations at three venues in England, two of which are in London. First up is Lord’s, where the final will be held on June 21.

Often called “the home of cricket”, this is the headquarters of the world’s oldest cricket club, the MCC⁵. The current location, which dates from 1814, is actually the third incarnation. Thomas Lord built his first ground in the area in 1787, near the site of present-day Dorset Square, then a second which had to be abandoned due to the building of the Regent’s Canal.

It looks as if there was a match being played on the day the Street View car drove past Lord’s, judging by the marshals and crowds. Let’s hope those big black clouds went away!

We head south of the River Thames for our next venue: The Oval, or, to give it its proper corporate-sponsored name, The Brit Insurance Oval.

This ground dates from 1845 and in 1880 became the first venue in England to hold a Test match (England v Australia). Two years later, after Australia beat the home nation at The Oval, a mock newspaper obituary mourned the death of English cricket, stating “the body will be cremated and the ashes taken to Australia”; to this day the two nations compete for The Ashes.

The Oval hasn’t always hosted cricket though: the first ever international football⁶ match took place here in 1870 (England v Scotland), and all but one of the first 20 FA Cup finals were held here. Despite being in the London Borough of Lambeth, The Oval is the home ground of Surrey County Cricket Club.

Street View doesn’t show too much of the ground itself, but one of the large gasometers to the north, a well-known landmark associated with the venue, is clearly visible.

The last of our three locations is a hundred miles or so to the north, in Nottingham. Trent Bridge is the home of Nottinghamshire County Cricket Club and takes its name, unsurprisingly, from the adjacent bridge which carries the main London road over the River Trent.

Cricket has been played on the site since the 1830s, when Nottinghamshire’s club captain married the landlady of the Trent Bridge Inn, and set up a ground in the meadow behind it. The impressive pavilion was built in 1886 and served as a military hospital during the first world war. It can be seen in Street View, but only end-on.

Also on view are the smart new stands and floodlights that were completed last year. A rather less lovely landmark of the ground is the ugly office block that was built after a corner of the ground was sold off in the 1960s.

If you haven’t learned enough about cricket yet, you can read more about Lord’s, The Oval and Trent Bridge at Cricinfo.

For just one frame of Google’s Street View for Charleston Road in Mountain View, we are given a completely unprecedented and unique glimpse inside the operation, as the camera is switched on inside the Street View Batcave.

Just like Batman’s underground lair, this warehouse appears to be the base for the whole operation. Panning around, you’ll find the dimly lit room¹ is filled in every direction with dozens and dozens of fully loaded camera cars, some featuring the older camera-only mounts, and others with the newer 3D laser mounts.

Other than the camera cars, there are several other fascinating things to see here, including this setup up of 9 LCD monitors mounted around a couple of old car seats, which would act like a 3D VR room. Is this for checking cameras? Reviewing recorded material? Or live monitoring of the drivers’ progress?

Also of note around the garage are some support vans, lots of bits of computer junk and, in an image captured immediately outside the building, several mysterious black vehicles.

Thanks to VGT.