Baltimore ? This must be the surface of a strange moon, sifted with pale dust. Obi-Wan Kenobi is here.

So is Lania D’Agostino.

“Grab his legs!” she cries.

The Jedi is soon pinned. Poised above him, D’Agostino brandishes a reciprocating saw like a lightsaber.

This moment will not appear in “Episode III: Revenge of the Sith,” the final installment in the Star Wars prequel trilogy due in theaters this spring. It’s a scene from D’Agostino’s daily life.

The moon is the Baltimore artist’s second-floor studio, which is powdered white with dried polyester resin. And Obi-Wan is a mannequin — albeit one that mirrors the physique of Ewan McGregor, the actor who plays him as a young man.

In the past decade or so, D’Agostino has tailored hundreds of Star Wars mannequins for original costume displays in museums across the globe, if not the galaxy. The owner of Mannequin Service Co., she works for the archive department of Lucasfilm, the company that produces Star Wars, to make dummies that match the actors’ proportions.

To alter a single mannequin can require up to 80 hours of sawing and gluing. On Monday, Obi-Wan went under the knife.

Source of consternation

His figure — part of an 8-mannequin order for a coming “Revenge of the Sith” exhibit in Asia — has been a source of consternation for D’Agostino. Beneath his monastic robe, the 5-foot-10 McGregor is apparently very short-waisted. Inches had to be chopped out of his fiberglass torso.

Then someone noticed that his legs were too close together, which meant his boots might not fit. Both limbs were summarily amputated, spread apart, then nailed into place with stabilizing braces.

Anakin Skywalker himself — who built the golden droid, C-3PO, before he hit puberty — couldn’t have done better.

D’Agostino, whose work spans both trilogies, from Princess Leia to Padme, has an interesting understanding of Star Wars.

From photographs and dress measurements, she gets previews of new characters and is privy to intimate details, like the undergarments favored by Blue Guardsmen and the exact circumference of Natalie Portman’s wrists.

She has also gleaned that the new movie involves “a Chewbacca and two Wookiees.”

“You know, I think Chewbacca is a Wookiee,” said Charlotte Gorrie, an assistant.

“Is he?” D’Agostino said.

OK, so she’s not a fanatic. So she waited until the mid-’80s to see the original movie and, even today, can barely tell a Jedi from Jar Jar Binks.

That’s one reason “they have to send me the photos beforehand,” she said. Otherwise, “I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

But maybe The Force is with D’Agostino anyway. Something attracted Lucasfilm representatives — who would not comment for this article — to D’Agostino when they met in the mid-1990s through a Star Wars exhibit at the National Air and Space Museum, which had hired her to make the mannequins.

Perhaps they admired her hairdo, which is currently a complicated system of spikes and dreadlocks that rivals the quirkiest coifs of Queen Amidala, Portman’s character. Or maybe they just liked her work.

Fiscal boon

In any event, after that first collaboration, “Lucasfilm always insisted we build their mannequins,” D’Agostino said.

This alliance was a fiscal boon. The three prequels, which were in development when D’Agostino built her first Hans Solo, meant seemingly limitless work in the competitive custom mannequin industry, which D’Agostino prefers to the retail work she also does.

A sculptor who moved from Michigan to Baltimore in 1982 and attended Maryland Institute College of Art, D’Agostino worked for the mannequin company for three years and then took it over in 1989. The company originally catered to department stores such as Sears, but D’Agostino pushed for more specialized work, providing mannequins to cultural institutions such as the National Museum of the American Indian, entertainment companies and private individuals.

A single model can cost $7,500 or more.

Tame work

Compared with some of the jobs she has done as a mannequin artist — like constructing a giant, juggling tiger — the Star Wars work seems almost tame. Sometimes she uses sculpted molds, but mostly the project entails the dismemberment of 6-foot-tall, standard-issue mannequins that D’Agostino imports from Asia for a few hundred dollars a piece.

And, although D’Agostino would like to experiment with face painting, Lucasfilm requests uniform heads, with bald skulls and blank eyes — to keep the viewer’s gaze on the costume, she said.

“We’re not creating a character,” she explained. “We’re creating a model.”

The epic is ending soon. D’Agostino expects Lucasfilm to keep her busy through the summer, but after that she anticipates the inevitable dwindling of a project that has been a definitive part of her business for the past decade.

She plans to apply her Star Wars techniques — like lopping off toes to accommodate stiff boots — to other costume exhibitions that she hopes will soon occupy her time. Perhaps one day, Wookiee and Ewok mannequins will themselves seem like creatures from a long, long time ago, and part of her life that’s far, far away.

But she might also become part of the legend. Already she’s fielding calls from fans requesting mannequins for their personal shrines. One procured unsettlingly specific measurements of David Prowse, the actor who played Darth Vader in the early films.

“He wanted the same muscle tone and everything,” she said. “I said ‘Lucasfilm doesn’t require that.’ He said, ‘I do.’ “

As it turns out, though, she and the Jedi junkies now share a common wish.

Just last week, D’Agostino learned of the possibility of the final trilogy, an idea Lucas once batted around, but has since reportedly scrapped.

Still, the notion gave her hope.

“There could be another three episodes,” she said. “I would really like that.”