#star wars Houk

[bluemilkandcookies]

When will we get the romance options we deserve?

[sullustangin]

Fluffy February Day 19: Shadow

SWTOR

~~

They said she came from the stars.

They said she came and went.  Nobody knew when she was really there.

Better behave then.  Didn’t want to be caught being bad. 

At least, that was the fear of the grown-ups.  Because they did the things that made her angry, like leaving the little ones to starve to get more blasters.  Like turning bigger ones into soldiers.  Like making it impossible for everyone to stay together, because there was too much poor land and too little food. 

One time, a Selonian den came through.  They kept to themselves.  They sought a place safer than Corellia or her twin sister worlds.  The small ones, with their sleek fur and their excited chattering, hadn’t quite learned the art of excluding non-Selonians – and perhaps these never would.

Yes, they’d heard of her.  They’d seen her, moving as a shadow across the face of Corellia and merging into their tunnels.  She had freed several adults from each of their septs. 

And she had not let a single hair be harmed on their heads – which was quite numerous, given they were Selonian.  One told of how a friend from another den had nearly been killed by a Houk, only to be saved by her, so small and lithe. 

They’d heard of her, even before the Selonians came through and even before she had first come here, now years ago.  She was bad to the governments. Some of the traders that came and went talked about her.  The Cartel hated her too.  They all called her a criminal.  Some, with a little more respect, called her the greatest criminal. They hunted her down.  Never caught her.  She defied their authority, and just like parents, governments didn’t like people who talked back and disobeyed… even if she was right and they knew it. 

But it never seemed that children had anything to fear from her. 

When she had walked in their streets, at night, the great coat she wore fluttered around her, so wide and soft that if someone was bold or too young to fear, they could walk beneath it, protected from the elements.  Her shadow was shelter and safety.

Her people – all shapes and sizes, their faces ever changing – had supplies that went to them, directly.  Children were trustworthy.  Grown-ups were not. 

Some on this small planet wondered if she would come, soon.  Corruption always grew.  It always needed to be fought.  The war inside the government – with her --  was not always large and violent.  She was a precise instrument that culled what was needed to go…and no more.  She could not remain.  No, she always returned to the stars, because they had to fix things.  Not her.

…but she gave them a chance to grow up.

~~

A/N: This sort of evolved as a colonial child's perspective on the Voidhound. How would they understand this semi-folkloric person, who never seemed to age and always managed to slip the noose and brought good things to the deserving?

@fluffyfebruary

[in-a-nook-with-a-notebook]

Reunion | 21st Time’s The Charm

Franchise: Star Wars

Pairing: Poe Dameron x male reader (reader’s pronouns are he/him/his)

Word Count: 3151

Warnings: angst, swearing, angst, more angst

Series Summary: You met Poe Dameron on twenty separate random occasions before you even remotely considered joining him in any sort of way, as part of the Resistance or otherwise. And while a lot happened in those twenty times, nothing really happened until the twenty-first…

Chapter Summary: Some loss of contact with Poe causes you to lose yourself and your mind a little bit. When he suddenly comes to you with an offer, you’re forced to do what’s best for both of you.

A/N: I’ve been working on this part for way too long so enjoy 💀

Y/N = your name // L/N = last name // Y/N/N = your nickname // E/C = eye colour // H/L = hair length // H/C = hair colour

Series Masterlist // Prologue // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

One day, you were messaging Poe, thinking he’ll get back to you quickly like he always does. Except, he didn’t. At first, you don’t think much of it; he’s probably busy working with the Resistance, or maybe he’s back into running spices. But then one day of waiting turns into two. Two days turns into three. Three days becomes a week, which becomes two weeks, which becomes a month.

Nightmares start coming back after that first month of radio silence from Poe. Back when you lived with your family, the nightmares were about them. Now? Fear of losing Poe. Every single dream you have may start out great; you and Poe hanging out and chatting like you always do. Then, typically, he gets called away on a mission for the Resistance. Your nightmare always decides to show you a visual of his x-wing blowing up with him and his astromech droid BB-8 in it, or Poe making the sacrifice play.

Just like every morning, you wake up in a cold sweat. You crawl out of bed and sit at your desk with your radio and record a message for Poe.

“Hey, man. This is… what, the thirty-second day without hearing from you? I won’t lie to you, I’m pretty worried. I know the Resistance is keeping you busy. Of course they are, you’re one of the best pilots in the galaxy. I just… well, it would be nice to hear you’re alive once and a while, you know? I’m not really up for losing my best and only friend. Anyways, things are going pretty well here. Making some money, which is nice. Miss you. If you hear this, take care of yourself, please? I can’t lose you.” You clear your throat. “Answer when you can. I’ll be here. Probably.”

————————

You and Poe were out of contact for a year and a half. You weren’t quite sure what he was up to, but you know you spent every damned day of that year and a half thinking about him, leaving him messages.

Out of the blue, you had lost your best friend. Your only friend.

On your eighteenth birthday, your parents take you to a casino in Canto Bight on Cantonica, though you’d rather be anywhere but there. While your parents got a room, you stood awkwardly in the lobby waiting and wishing you could just leave. Everyone here are your parents’ kind of people; people who got rich by working for or with the First Order. This is your parents’ idea of a good birthday event, though, so here you are.

Your E/C eyes scan the crowded room boredly, hoping not to make eye contact with anyone. Or anything, for that matter. Then, your gaze rests on a young man with dark hair and the most breathtaking eyes. Well, they’re only breathtaking to you, really. You would stare into those brown eyes of nostalgia all day if you could, but you’re almost too startled to comprehend who’s eyes you believe they are.

Your eyes make you think it’s him.

“Poe?” You call out. The young man looks around and you get a better look at his face. It’s definitely Poe. “Poe!” You shout again. He keeps looking, but can’t seem to find you. You start to weave through the crowd, muttering apologies as you go. Then, a small group of Houks passes you and you lose sight of Poe for a second. By the time they move out of the way, you see the back of his leather jacket as he slips out the entrance.

“Poe!” You holler, now pushing urgently through the crowd. From what you can see through the translucent doors, he makes no show of turning back, still walking away. You rush out the doors and proceed to be drenched with the rain – and you had just started to fucking dry off. Dammit.

You look around desperately as either water or tears or both streak down your face. Your hair gets flattened to your head and in your face as you look around. Even in the layers you’re wearing, you begin to shiver in the cold, wet air.

Dejectedly, you slip back into the casino and shake your head like a wet dog to get rid of some water. What you didn’t know in that moment was that a certain Resistance pilot was watching from afar, making sure it really was who he so desperately hoped it was calling after him.

————————

One morning weeks later, you wake up in a cold sweat after a long night out with your family at a different casino, this one on Corulag. Your parents had been making a deal with the owner over something you decided you didn’t care enough to attend the meeting about. You’ve snooped through their files already anyway.

It was another nightmare, of course, that woke you. You’ve been having them for so long that you’re not entirely sure when they started, maybe a few years ago or something; you had started having bad dreams about the shit your family would get up to working in favour of the First Order.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the remnants of the nightmare. Your feet hit the warm carpeted floor of your bedroom in your family’s home on Coruscant. Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you pad out towards the bathroom, flinching a bit when your feet make contact with the cold tile. You shiver a little, your bare torso having to adjust to the temperature drop in the cool room.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, combing your fingers through your H/L H/C hair, frowning at yourself.

You peer at the symbol tattooed on your cheekbone. You’ve been feared by some because of it. A great many people are terrified of your family, for the system they created. Whenever you go out on your own, you cover it with your sister’s makeup.

You tilt your chin up, looking at the scars on your neck from a fight a couple years ago after a pod race, your second big circuit. You’ve learned to hide them. You were sort of proud of them, if you’re being honest. You got them for a good reason. The tattooed symbol on your cheek? All you feel is shame from it.

You sigh and look away from the mirror, shedding your pyjama pants and getting in the shower.

————————

It doesn’t take you long to pack. You knew your parents were going out today on another meeting in a whole other system; it was your chance.

You pack two bags, one with clothes and one with belongings. Then, you return to the bathroom with some of your sister Aria’s makeup, which you’d stolen from her bathroom earlier. You carefully cover the symbol on your cheekbone just like you do all the time, even though you were planning on wearing a hat and a hood anyway.

There’s a knock on your door, and you freeze in place. Then, someone speaks.

“Y/N/N?”

Your heart soars and your jaw drops at the sound of the voice. You immediately rush across the room and tap the button to open the door. Your gaze meets the brown eyes that always bring back memories.

“Poe?”

Poe Dameron is leaning against your doorframe, breathing heavily like he ran across the planet to get here. “I don’t have much time-”

“Yeah, no shit!” You drag him into your room and close the door. “What the fuck are you doing here? You can’t be here, why are you here?

“That’s a lot of questions,” he states.

“I have a few hundred more, starting with why didn’t you answer me for over a year and why did I see you in Canto Bight, followed by why the fuck didn’t you see me?”

“Y/N/N, I will answer all your questions as soon as possible but I need to tell you what I came here to tell you, so can you shut up and listen for a sec?”

“First of all-”

“I’m sorry, I need to-”

“You can’t tell me to shut up when I’ve-”

“This is really important-”

Another knock on your door startles both of you into silence. “Y/N?” Your dad calls out. “You alright, son?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Dad, why?” You answer, masking your anxiety about Poe being in your room, in your house, this close to your shit family.

“I just heard some yelling. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep! Just this thing I’m working on, I was watching a video someone made as an instruction manual and the guys in the video started fighting for some reason.”

“…Okay,” you dad replies unsurely. “Well, your mother and I are heading out for the deal. Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

“I’m sure! I wanna get this project finished. You guys have fun, though!”

You hear your father’s footsteps recede, and you exhale sharply. “Okay. You have a lot of explaining to do, starting with whatever the fuck you’re saying is so important.”

“I’ve been promoted to Commander in the Resistance,” Poe says quickly.

You blink. “Dude.”

“What?”

“Dude.”

“What?”

“Dude, why didn’t you call me? Poe, that’s amazing!” You hug him with the biggest grins on both your faces and he hugs you back. For some reason, you’re acutely aware of just how exactly his arms are around you. You can feel one of his arms around your waist with his hand on your side. His other hand is bracing your head, holding you as close to him as possible.

He’s hugging you like you’re about to disappear into thin air, never to be seen again.

After a moment, you realize you’re hugging him that tight too.

“I’ve missed you,” Poe says, his face buried in the crook of your neck. “So much. You have no idea, Y/N/N, oh my god.”

You laugh, then realize there are tears rolling down your cheeks. No wonder your eyes are stinging. “Fuck,” you mumble. “Sorry, I’m getting your jacket all wet with my stupid tears.” You try to pull away but Poe holds on tighter.

“I don’t care.”

You smile even more, gripping his jacket even tighter. After another long moment, the two of you pull apart. “Is that all you came to tell me?”

“What?”

“That you joined the Resistance, is that all you came to tell me?”

“Wh- no, actually. Your parents.”

Your nose wrinkles. “What about my parents?”

“They’re worse than either of us even thought. I went through a bunch of records with the general and all those deals? Big big deals for the First Order. Your parents and their system are one of their number one suppliers of, like, everything. Even stormtroopers.”

“Stormtroopers? How? I thought they were raised to be troopers from birth.”

“Yep.” Poe stares at you, waiting for it to process in your mind. It finally sets in and you turn to Poe in horror. He nods. “Yeah.”

“My parents are baby smugglers?” You whisper.

“Unfortunately. Still, though, not entirely why I’m here.”

You frown. “What the fuck else could you need to tell me? Poe, you’re not making any sense anymore, man.” You walk back to your bed to make sure you’ve got everything you need in your bag, one last once over.

“I have an offer,” Poe says.

You scoff. “Yeah? And what would that be?”

“A place in the Rebellion.”

You freeze in place, one hand still in your bag. Thoughts run through your mind, scenarios of everything that could happen if you do the one thing you’ve wanted to do for as long as you could remember: join the Rebellion.

“Y/N/N?” Poe murmurs.

You still don’t answer, standing there by your bed with your hand in your bag.

“Hey,” your best friend whispers, carefully walking over to you. “Talk to me. What’s going through your mind right now?”

“I can’t,” you say, so quiet that Poe barely hears you.

“What d’you mean you can’t?”

“I mean I was about to ditch this place tonight,” you say, your normal tone returning. You turn around to face him. “My parents know I’m still sympathetic to the Rebellion, they’d tear you lot down to pieces looking for me. I can’t let that happen.”

“But you could fight against them instead of running, Y/N/N, please,” Poe mutters, gradually getting closer and closer to you.

“Poe, please.” You feel another tear slip down your cheek and you make no effort to wipe it away. The makeup you’d used to cover your family symbol is probably washed away by now with how much you’ve cried since opening the door for Poe.

“Y/N/N, we need you and you need out of here. Even if you don’t want to fight yet.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do for the Resistance if not fight?”

“Intelligence operative? I dunno! The possibilities are endless but the point is, you can join us. We can see each other again and I won’t lose contact.”

“You still haven’t explained that,” you say.

“Deep undercover missions,” Poe replies. “I’ve been sent on a few. In between that, I’m flying into battle against the First Order and believe me, you are the only person I’d like to talk to before or during or after a battle and I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

“Couldn’t,” Poe emphasizes. “My radio, the one we were using from The Edge to talk, it was smashed and I got so busy I was never given a chance to fix it.”

“…Okay, that’s fair,” you decide, the little bit of resentment you held for Poe’s lack of communication ebbing away a little. “What about Canto Bight? That was you, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” he says slowly. “I saw you.”

“Bullshit, if you saw me, you would have talked to me!”

“I couldn’t bring myself to!” Poe exclaims desperately, starting to pace around the room. “After unintentionally blowing you off for so long, I was scared you’d be mad at me.”

“I was,” you say softly, barely holding back more tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. “Poe, you were all I had. You are all I have. I can’t have friends with the family I’ve got, with the person I am- I won’t let myself! Then, I let myself get close to you and maybe this is bold of me to say but you were my lifeline, you have been for a long time. So yeah, I was mad at you but I was furious with myself for letting all that happen, for allowing myself to be hurt like that and I want to be mad at you still.” You scoff. “Gods, I want to be so mad at you right now but I can’t bring myself to be angry with you.”

“Come to the Resistance,” Poe whispers.

You close your eyes and tears are released. “I can’t. I can’t let my family hurt you or them in the ways I know they will. It’s safer for me to leave, Poe. You don’t understand.”

“Y/N/N…”

There’s a knock on your door. “Mr. L/N?” It’s one of your parents’ servants, Daymien. You’d recognize his voice anywhere. “Are you alright in there?”

“Yeah, Day, I’m fine!” You shout back.

“May I come in?”

“That depends, have my parents left?”

“Long gone, sir.”

“C’mon in, then,” you answer. Poe looks at you like you grew three heads in that moment. “Relax, Poe, he’s more loyal to me than them.”

The door slides open and Daymien steps in, closing the door behind him. “Greetings, Mr. L/N. Your shuttle is ready in the hangar downstairs. Your parents have already left for their deal, so you have time.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, shaking his hand and clasping his shoulder. “Keep in touch.”

“Of course.”

You turn to Poe, not really sure what to do with yourself. He smiles almost sadly. “Go on, Y/N/N,” he says gently. “We’ll meet again, I know it.”

As you quickly make your way down to the hangar, you think about what Poe said.

We’ll meet again.

That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? You’ve already met, but now you want nothing more than to stay with him. Fuck parting ways. You want it to be safe enough for the both of you to be together for a while.

You climb into your shuttle, setting yourself up for a long flight to… well, you’re not sure where yet. All you know is that you need to get far away from here and far away from Poe. You won’t let him get hurt because of you.

————————

[Poe’s POV]

I haven’t left Y/N’s place yet, still standing on the balcony of his room. I was just gonna stay to watch him take off but I haven’t moved.

“Sir? Mr. Dameron?”

I turn around to see Daymien is still here. “Sorry,” I say to him. “I should probably go, shouldn’t I?”

“Before you do, though, sir, I have a question, of sorts, for you.”

I frown. “For me?”

“Yes, it’s about Y/N. About the both of you, really,” Daymien says, wringing his hands. “I’ve been really worried about him lately, especially after the two of you lost contact. He’s been… well, he’s been different.”

“Different? Different how?”

“He’s… he’s quiet, he’s reserved. I always see him with plans and books, blueprints and stuff. I just, I dunno, ever since you two stopped talking, he’s been weird. You gotta take care of him, Poe, please.”

“Y/N can take care of himself, we both know that.”

“That’s not the point,” Daymien replies. “He’s in danger and he’s not-”

“Danger? What danger? What’s wrong?” I ask immediately. Daymien hesitates. “Dude, come on, I need to know.”

“Not long after you guys lost contact, his parents got him in with the wrong crowd. Well, more like crowds, plural. He made some enemies while you were gone and he pissed off a lot of people with his political stances; siding with the Resistance and all.”

“Then he’s in danger out there on his own!” I exclaim.

“Poe-”

“I-I’ve, I’ve gotta radio him, I should-”

“Poe-”

“…be out there with him, I-”

“Poe!” Daymien says loudly. I shut up. “You can’t do that.”

“What? No, that’s bull- that’s bullshit, man, I need to be there for him! I can’t lose him again, please!” I take a deep breath when I realize that there are hot tears streaming down my face. “Daymien, I have to help him.”

“Poe, I’m sorry,” Daymien says quietly. “We can’t help him now, you can’t make contact. But I need you to keep an eye on him. You need to give him time, though. He needs time.”

“Fuck time,” I say, marching towards the door. “I don’t need time.”

“What do you need, then?” Daymien calls after me. I stop as the door opens and look back at him, tears still staining my cheeks.

“I need him.”

[mortallyclearwonderland]

Star Wars Alien Species - Houk

Houk's homeworld, Lijuter, an arid and inhospitable planet in the Reibrin System, located in the Outer Rim. A number of Space Stations orbit Lijuter and its two moons, many of them serving as offworld settlements for Houk and various unscrupulous traders and sordid passers-by.

The Houk came from the planet Lijuter in the Reibrin system, though they spread out to colonize several nearby systems after being contacted by Vaathkree traders. All Houk colonies had their own societies and systems of government, though they all answered to the Lijuter Congress which administered their homeworld. By the Imperial era, they had thirty-one offworld colonies, mostly in the Ansuroer sector. One of their colonies was in the Lesser Cueva Expanse on the Weequay homeworld of Sriluur. The presence of these two belligerent species on the same world led to a fierce rivalry, culminating in a civil war which began in 10 BBY and lasted for nearly a decade.

Though their tempers were not as explosive as those of Wookiees, Houk were known for their tendency to solve problems violently. In politics, they would often wage war without formal declarations, negotiate in bad faith, and ignore treaties. Though this preference for violence tended to cause the Houk problems in dealing with other societies, it often got them what they wanted. Surprisingly though, in personal combat, Houk preferred to use stealth rather than direct confrontation. This gave them a reputation for deceit and cowardice. However, just as each Houk colony had a different culture and government, Houk individuals had varied personalities. Though all Houk came from a culture with high levels of corruption and violence, many Houk were hard workers who had learned to get along with other sentients.

The Houk produced little technology of their own, though they adapted themselves to the standard technology of the rest of the galaxy, including hyperdrive-equipped starships and modern weapons such as neuronic whips (a weapon many Houk particularly enjoyed using).

The Galactic Empire abducted many Houk for experimentation, intending to use their physical strength as part of a program to create a "perfect slave." Those Houk who were kidnapped by Imperial science teams were never heard from again.

One of the most famous Houk was Anchor Blue, a fierce gladiator who fought in The Cauldron on Rattatak. Other members of the Houk species included cantina owner Gorb Drig and criminals Lun Rask and Egome Fass.

Gundark, the infamous arms dealer, was suspected to be a Houk by CorSec.

Houk are hulking bipeds with thick skin (Usually dark blue or violet), hairless heads marked with bony ridges and a pronounced brow, flabby jowls, beady yellow eyes, and no visible ears or nose.

A typical Houk stands 2.2 meters or 7.2 feet tall and weighs 120 kilograms or 265 pounds.

Houks age at the following stages:

1 - 12 Child

13 - 15 Young Adult

16 - 44 Adult

45 - 59 Middle Age

60 - 79 Old

Examples of Names: Gorb Drig, Egome Fass, Agamor Krin, Morg Nar, Roath Vogog, Krelba Voss.

Languages: Houk speak Houkese, a language of grunts marked with subtle tonal inflections that differentiate words that otherwise sound the same. Written Houkese uses a simple primitive alphabet in which each letter represents a simple verb and intricate pictograms represent nouns.

[depizan]

Star rating meanings for the Character Danger Meme. Or some approximation there of. Even trying to adjust for Force Users vs not, some of the categories still feel a little skewed by the very nature of the kinds of characters it's meant for.

Raw Power (non-Force User)

★ smaller/weaker species

★★ averagely fit human/near-human/etc

★★★ very strong/powerful human/near-human/etc

★★★★ enhanced human/near-human/etc type, or average Wookiee, Houk, etc

★★★★★ dear god, it’s a cybernetically enhanced Wookiee

Raw Power (Force User)

★ has the Force, yay? (Jedi Service Corps; in the Empire, you’re probably fucked)

★★ has the Force, yay! (low end of standard Jedi; in the Empire, you actually have a chance)

★★★ absolutely average Force User

★★★★ exceptional Force User

★★★★★ dear god, you ate a planet

Formal Training

★ no training

★★ a little training

★★★ good, solid, professional level training

★★★★ exceptional training

★★★★★ top of the line specialty training (Cipher Agents, Spec Forces, etc)

Combat Experience

★ none/none as a participant

★★ has been in fights/combat

★★★ professional fighter/combatant or equivalent (think martial artist, police, bounty hunter, etc)

★★★★ active professional soldier or equivalent

★★★★★ veteran of many conflicts. So many conflicts.

Willingness to Kill

★ in self-defense/desperate defense of others

★★ still not eager, but has a longer list of acceptable reasons, or less guilt

★★★ accepts killing in a professional sense (might feel different outside of profession)

★★★★ accepts killing in a professional sense without guilt (might feel different outside of profession)

★★★★★ enjoys killing or has no guilt in any circumstances

(I would consider an absolute pacifist no stars to properly capture their rarity.)

Previous Victims

★ very few, not out of single digits

★★ more than that

★★★ a notable amount (they’ve actively fought in war, worked as an assassin, etc.)

★★★★ they’ve left a veritable trail of bodies (their name is associated with battles, etc.)

★★★★★ they’ve committed history book level atrocities

(“Victims” is a little vague on a list that includes combat and power in general as well as killing, making this a little harder to define/chart. Is this a death thing, or is this an intentional significant harm thing too? Is this a direct thing, or do indirect victims count as well?)

[libertineangel]

One thing I'd like to see more in Star Wars is visibly varying gravity.

Gimme an assault on a moon base where the defenders roll tanks out and the infantry strike teams can just leap the fuck over them, or a lightsaber duel on a huge planet with a crust heavy in metals in which the fighters are trying to do the typical fancy acrobatics but are getting visibly more exhausted, or a pilot desperately trying to get a starfighter off the ground before a planetary shield engages but it was only ever meant for ship-to-ship engagements and can't take off properly from ground level.

Even better, show us how different species handle the same gravitational circumstances - like a Houk fighting one of Yoda's species through a star cruiser as it plummets toward a high-gravity planet, and the Houk struggles more and more as they're weighed down by their own massive frame while their opponent remains untroubled, or a Nautolan accustomed to moving with water resistance being constantly off-balance and imprecise on a dwarf planet while its residents move with ease.

Gravity is such a basic fact of existence that playing with it can create such cool and interesting results, it has such potential but never really gets explored.

[baraste-legacy]

Star Wars/SWTOR Fan Art Collection Masterlist

A collection of SWTOR Fanart and Fanon-related reblogs, and a few fully attributed reposts (tentatively adding Tumblr-only orphaned art, too). Entries may contain adult themes. Each post’s last tags show the artist or author of the original work. More of their art in this blog can be found by clicking on or pressing their tags.

If tagged as "orphan art", it means the original artist is no longer reachable on Tumblr or elsewhere (or that my Google-fu has faltered. I'm eager to be corrected about those 🙂).

Searches might yield less results than tags, due to how Tumblr works. I suggest that, when you find something interesting out of a normal search, you look for such tags and use them immediately for more complete results, especially while using the mobile app.

In the case of popular characters such as a Darth Maul, Feral Opress, Asajj Ventress, etc., it's better to use their name tags, or their species tags without the "art" word (I'm sort of favoring OCs in the "art" ones).

These masterlists are a work in progress. If you can't find some XYZ term or item in them, try a tagged search (preceding the search term with a "#" hashtag character) such as "#XYZ art" (or without the "art", too).

Remember that, while in a custom themed blog (baraste-legacy.tumblr.com instead of tumblr.com/baraste-legacy), you can show the results of those links or any tag search in chronological order by adding "/chrono" to the end of the URL.

HELP THE ARTISTS: REBLOG THEIR ART!!! 🙂

——+——

OTHER FAN ART REBLOGGERS AND COLLECTORS

SWTORpadawan: lots of SWTOR fan art, including great "orphaned" material they are saving from extinction.

SWTOR Fan Art Appreciation

SWTORHUB

——+——

SWTOR COMPANIONS ART

(This section has been moved to its own post due to having reached the links per post limit)

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ART BY SPECIES

Indeterminate Species · aleena · anacondan · anomid · anzati · aqualish · arkanian · arkanian offshoot · arthurian · balosar · besalisk · bith · bothan · cathar · cerean · chagrian · chakrata · chandra-fan · chironian · chiss · clawdite · codru-ji · covallon · cyborg · dashade · defel · delphidian · devaronian · diathim · dug · duros · echani · elfish humanoid · er’stacian · espirion · evereni · evocii · ewok · falleen · farghul · feeorin · ferroan · firrerreo · fleshraider · fosh · gabdorin · gamorrean · gand · gank · gen'dai · gonk droid · gotal · gran · gryphon · gungan · harch · herglic · houk · human · hutt · hybrid · iktotchi · ithorian · jawa · kage · kaleesh · kalleran · kallidahin · kaminoan · karkarodon · kel dor · kessurian · kiffar · klatooinian · krish · kushiban · kyuzo · lannik · lasat · lupr’or · mikkian · miraluka · mirialan · mon calamari · mortis celestials · mouse droid · muun · nagai · nautolan · neimoidian · nelvaanian · nightbrother · nightsister · nikto · noghri · noorian · omwati · ongree · ortolan · palliduvan · pantoran · pau'an · pa’lowic · pyke · quarren · quermian · rakata · rattataki · reigat · rodian · roonan · samuac · sand people · sarkhai · selkath · selonian · sephi · shistavanen · sith pureblood · sugi · sullustan · sylphe · talz · tarsunt · taung · theelin · thisspiasian · tholothian · tholotian · tognath · togruta · trandoshan · trodatome · twi'lek · umbaran · vahla · voss · vurk · weequay · whipid · wookiee · wroonian · zabrak · zelosian · zeltron · zygerrian · Original Species Creations

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ART BY CREATURE SPECIES

(This section has had to be moved to its own post, too)

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DARTH LORDS OF THE SITH ART

Darth Acina · Darth Arkous · Darth Bane · Darth Baras · Darth Caldoth · Darth Cognus · Darth Jadus · Darth Maladi · Darth Malak · Darth Malgus · Darth Malora · Darth Marr · Darth Maul · Darth Plagueis · Darth Revan · Darth Sidious · Darth Talon · Darth Thanaton · Darth Tyranus · Darth Vader · Emperor Vitiate · Darth Vowrawn · Darth Wyyrlok · Darth Zannah · Darth Zash

——+——

POPULAR CHARACTERS ART

Clone Wars characters · Darth Maul · Savage Opress · Feral Opress · Asajj Ventress · Obi-Wan Kenobi · Ahsoka Tano · Anakin Skywalker · Clones

Aayla Secura · Adi Gallia · Agen Kolar · Barriss Offee · Eeth Koth · Luminara Unduli · Mace Windu · Quinlan Vos · Shaak Ti

Star Wars Rebels characters · Kanan Jarrus · Hera Syndulla · Ezra Bridger · Garazeb Orrelios · Alexsandr Kallus · Arihnda Pryce · Grand Admiral Thrawn

Thrawn stories' characters · Thrawn · Ar'alani · Eli Vanto

KOTOR stories' characters · Revan · Malak · Bao Dur

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3D ART

Star Wars/SWTOR 3D Art

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SUNDRY STUFF

Interestingly tattooed characters and tattoo designs Star Wars Miscellanea

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WORLDBUILDING

All Worldbuilding Reblogs

The Sith Order · The Sith Empire

The Jedi Order · The Galactic Republic

The Devaronian Species The Sith Pureblood Species The Togruta Species The Twi'lek Species The Zabrak Species

• BadSithNoCookie's Worldbuilding Master Post. • FluffyNexu's Worldbuilding Master Post. • InquisitorHotPants's Worldbuilding and Constructed Languages Master Posts.

   MY SWTOR LEGACY

All Legacy Posts Baraste Legacy Masterlist

   SWTOR 3D ART

STAR WARS/SWTOR 3D Art My SWTOR assets-based 3D Art (Images produced through the use of 3D assets extracted from SWTOR) A guide on how to extract and auto-assemble your SWTOR characters' models in Blender It's far easier than you think! 🙂

   A SWTOR ARTISTS DISCORD SERVER (NOT MINE!)

This might be of interest to both SWTOR/Star Wars fanartists and fan art appreciators: it's a Discord server that started life in 2019, hosting both fanartists you surely know by now (Spaceling, Moonlitalien, Luniara, Ahuska, Swevenfox, The Archnerd, Aphroditenx… Sorry to omit a ton of other great people there) and their patrons and admirers, plus folks that are dabbling at this or just giving it a try:

SWTOR ARTISTS DISCORD SERVER

It's a nice place, well moderated. The usual detours aside, the theme is Star Wars/SWTOR art and artists-centric. You can interact with the artists, ask for advice, post your own art and your commission data if any, or use the directory and galleries to find who to commission for art. (I'm just an admirer there that was somehow invited and later allowed to start a little 3D corner 😅)

[carnival-roleplay]

Hace mucho mucho tiempo en una galaxia muy, muy lejana...  La república se enfrentaba a una potencial  crisis económica, con el Canciller Supremo Turd Gratham cada vez siendo más estricto sobre los negocios de la república y pasando un voto para prohibir el comercio con los Hutt, el futuro se veía gris ante estos sucesos. Mientras tanto los Hutt se encontraban en su auge, disfrutando de una época de negocios sin igual, liderados por Gubba el Hutt quien se había hecho con el poder durante la guerra contra el imperio Houk, subyugando a todos los demás carteles Hutt.  Y cuando la esperanza de la república recayó sobre la Orden Jedi, fue cuando fueron conscientes del débil estado de la misma orden.  ¡Star Wars: OLD REPUBLIC TALES !  Día 4 de Mayo abrimos las puertas. Aún estamos en fase beta, pero nos orgullece que os unáis a nuestra galaxia. May the fourth be with you. FORO ► DISCORD ►TUMBLR

[starwarsoldrepublictales]

May the force with you.

Hace mucho mucho tiempo en una galaxia muy, muy lejana… La república se enfrentaba a una potencial  crisis económica, con el Canciller Supremo Turd Gratham cada vez siendo más estricto sobre los negocios de la república y pasando un voto para prohibir el comercio con los Hutt, el futuro se veía gris ante estos sucesos. Mientras tanto los Hutt se encontraban en su auge, disfrutando de una época de negocios sin igual, liderados por Gubba el Hutt quien se había hecho con el poder durante la guerra contra el imperio Houk, subyugando a todos los demás carteles Hutt. Y cuando la esperanza de la república recayó sobre la Orden Jedi, fue cuando fueron conscientes del débil estado de la misma orden. ¡Star Wars: OLD REPUBLIC TALES ! Día 4 de Mayo abrimos las puertas de nuestro proyecto. Aún estamos en fase beta, pero nos orgullece que os unáis a nuestra galaxia.

[guardianasdelrpg]

Hace mucho mucho tiempo en una galaxia muy, muy lejana...  La república se enfrentaba a una potencial  crisis económica, con el Canciller Supremo Turd Gratham cada vez siendo más estricto sobre los negocios de la república y pasando un voto para prohibir el comercio con los Hutt, el futuro se veía gris ante estos sucesos. Mientras tanto los Hutt se encontraban en su auge, disfrutando de una época de negocios sin igual, liderados por Gubba el Hutt quien se había hecho con el poder durante la guerra contra el imperio Houk, subyugando a todos los demás carteles Hutt.  Y cuando la esperanza de la república recayó sobre la Orden Jedi, fue cuando fueron conscientes del débil estado de la misma orden.  ¡Star Wars: OLD REPUBLIC TALES !  Día 4 de Mayo abrimos las puertas. Aún estamos en fase beta, pero nos orgullece que os unáis a nuestra galaxia. May the fourth be with you. FORO ► DISCORD ►TUMBLR

[corey-067]

Fictober Day 2 “People like you have no imagination.”

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Corey Black, Unnamed Gladiators Warnings: Violence, some blood.

Gladiatorial arenas were not for those with weak constitutions. The faint of heart perished early on, and the sands of the Mandalorian-owned arena were soaked with the blood of at least a dozen species. Corey had agreed to fight here, to earn back credits he'd taken out for the development of a new starship, one intended to aid his clan in their new, mobile surroundings. He could've taken a loan from a reputable source, he had contacts within more than one bank, but the Mandalorian would've been lying if he'd said that he didn't want to do this. The violence of the Arena was something that the Mandalorian understood, the sheer, primal simplicity of it allowing him to focus. He could bleed away all of the stresses and complications that filled his daily life, come alive and find himself unburdened at the other end, provided he survived.

The Arena had been his home for many of his teenage years, earning himself a reputation as a skilled, deadly fighter. The roar of the crowd as he took to the sands drew a smile to his lips; the fact that he wasn't forgotten here was a boon to his confidence. He allowed a moment of pride to wash over him in that chorus of clamoring voices, thrusting his sword high into the air. Today he faced off against three opponents; the trio spread out before him as he sized them up, noting their species, weapons, and armor, as well as the way that they moved. He saluted each of them, hands together, a short bow, and closed his eyes briefly as he took it all in.

His armor was minimal, covering a portion of his tattooed, scarred torso, but he was not concerned, despite the Houk wielding an electrostaff and the small human carrying twin pistols, while he carried only simple, beskar weapons. A Rodian was the final combatant, and he held a long dagger in each hand, each edge glistening as though his opponent had coated his blades with poison. The Mandalorian found himself wondering what the being's cybernetic eye could do, though he supposed he'd find out over the course of the fight.

That's what I get for agreeing to an anything goes fight. 

The announcer's voice blared out across the arena, and the crowd fell silent. "Begin!"

They moved like a well-oiled machine, and the Mandalorian knew that he was going to have to use every ounce of skill he possessed to achieve victory. He knew that his ability to use the Force would give him an advantage over any one of his opponents, but he refused to use his gifts as a crutch, opting only to use them when he had no other recourse. The first attack came from the blaster-wielding human, as he'd anticipated. A simple ploy that would draw him into the melee with the other pair, while keeping him at bay from the physically weakest of the fighters.

It was an effective ploy, but one that Black had seen dozens of times before. Momentum kept him ahead of the shots, as rage crossed the Houk's face and he charged the remaining distance, electrostaff spinning the moment that he was in range. Blue eyes glanced to his right, confirming his suspicion of the pattern they were employing. If he continued at his current speed, he'd avoid the obvious threat but end up coming precariously close to the Rodian's blades. At the last moment, he twisted, driving his weight into a sure-footed slide, his back arching as the electrified end of the Houk's weapon passed so close to his chest that he felt the energy tingle across the bared half of his chest. The moment he was clear, Corey tucked his weapon close to his body and rolled one foot over the other, using the rolling motion to bring his blade to bear on the Houk's legs.

The beskar tip barely managed to bite his skin before the electrostaff came whirling in for a counterattack, Black seeing only two directions he could move. He had studied his opponents before the bout, and they were skilled but overly consistent in their tactical decisions, relying instead on numbers and closing avenues to win the day. Black feinted, appearing as though he intended to dive beneath the Houk's solid right arm, and almost instinctively the roaring brute adjusted his angle of attack. At that moment, the Mandalorian leaped into the air, narrowly avoiding the burning plasma that lanced past him. He saw the Houk's next attack coming; it was precisely what he'd have done in the situation. That knowledge gave him no comfort, nor did it make the blow hurt any less. Corey was able to twist himself so that the powerful, electrified blow struck the single armor piece on his chest, battering him backward.

Gasping for air, the Mandalorian slammed into the sand; his beskad cast aside. He was closer to the blaster wielding human, rolling to the side as his senses flared, adrenaline spiking as the pistols poured fire where he'd been only a moment before, turning the sand into glass with its intensity. He was assessing the situation, as he always did, aware of the combatants fanning out around him, mind continually anticipating the angles from which they could attack. It wasn't enough to look for the next attack; he had to be ready to respond to it as quickly as they engaged. His chest was on fire as he used his remarkable strength to lever himself off of the sand, his hands springing up as he landed - somewhat shakily - on his feet, lowering his stance to stabilize himself. His hands came up, and a smirk curved his lips as he used his pain as a point of focus.

He was as impressed as ever with the strength of the Houk - the now-buckled durasteel plate pressed into his ribs every time he breathed. Striking the release, he allowed the leatheris and metal construction to drop before him, a swift kick sending the armor into the face of the charging Houk.

This time the Rodian came in closer, looking once again to attack while he was distracted by the obvious threat, and the Mandalorian felt the Human's blasters training on his back once more. Now time to show them how I made my name. 

The intention to fire was still forming in the Human's mind when the Mandalorian twisted, the world around him feeling as though it was moving in slow motion, even without a conscious use for the Force. Master Ji had taught him that every slightest movement was a clue and the Houk was listing off to his right, the pressure of each step exacerbating his injury. Blaster bolts blazed past him with such assurance that they would strike the intended target that there was barely any deviation in the pattern of the shots. The closest singed the skin at the side of his abdomen, but the sheer variety of scars across his flesh stood as a testament to the Mandalorian's tolerance for pain. The Rodian was the clear team player, whereas the Houk and Human seemed consistent in their desire to be the one to kill him. It was a predictable weakness and one that would prove to be fatal for each of them. In that, though, the Human served his purpose perfectly.

A flurry of more than a dozen bolts struck the Houk, sending it staggering backward, shock overtaking its sunken, beady eyes. The Mandalorian was impressed that the brute didn't just fall, having to throw himself into a rolling dive to avoid the vicious swipe that was intended to keep him at bay. Armor covered fists struck at the hulking creature's flesh, centering around the blaster burns. The Houk grabbed for him, dropping the electrostaff, but he was weakening already, and the Mandalorian used his opponent's arm to launch himself upward. Armor-clad legs wrapped around his thick neck, toppling the pair of them backward. They struggled on the floor, his bare back skipping across the sand as the Houk twisted and bucked to try and get him off. The Mandalorian could sense the shock and the imbalance it was causing in his opponents, and he knew that he needed to act quickly keep that.

The Rodian closed in, blades flashing dangerously in the Geonosian sun, causing Black to twist and squeeze with all his might, one sharp jerk finishing the Houk as the Mandalorian rolled clear. The Human still seemed stunned by what he'd done, and Black charged him down, the Rodian hot on his heels. By the time his opponent brought his blasters to bear, the Mandalorian's attack had already begun. Deft hands knocked the blasters aside, and as his opponent attempted to strike him with one of the weapons, Black grabbed his wrist, yanking him hard, face first into the sharp point of his elbow, dropping him to the ground. A knee planted in his back as Corey rolled clear ensured that the human remained there.

The Rodian was remarkably quick, and Black found himself on the defensive, armored hands and forearms knocking aside the blades as they wove their deadly pattern. The Mandalorian watched as a pattern began to form, one that left very few openings for him to counter. By the look of the unknown substance smeared on his gauntlets, it appeared that Black had been right about his opponent poisoning his blades.

Their dance was a vicious one, speed the Rodian's advantage, strength the Mandalorian's. Had he been in full armor, the fight would've been over in moments, as he could merely have plowed through his opponent, but this was a test of his skill, not the quality of craftsmanship owed mainly to his late father. Corey felt the breath of air pushed aside by the Rodian's blade as it came far too close for comfort when he saw his opportunity. One flattened palm slammed into the Rodian's elbow, giving his arc far more momentum than his body was ready to process, a blow that in turn left his ribcage exposed. Relying on speed, Corey's opponent lacked more than the most basic, light armor, and the Mandalorian's blows were powerful, each rapid, closed-fisted strike staggering the alien as Black's momentum added further power to the attack.

The Rodian flailed, as he attempted to find his balance, to return to the attack when an audible crack echoed through the air, and the Mandalorian's opponent began to cough. He swept his blade across Black's path, but he sidestepped the attack with ease. The Mandalorian dropped his weight onto his back foot, a cough from his opponent splattering him with blood. A swift, brutal kick slammed beneath the Rodian's chin, sending him sailing like a ragdoll through the air before slamming into the sand. Whether or not he was conscious was unclear, but he wasn't getting back up. Black offered him a bow of respect, of the three he had been the most significant challenge. "The problem is," he murmured, "While skilled, your attacks lacked imagination, so they were easy to predict."

His arms thrust into the air as the crowd bayed, roaring his name once again.

[lamagadeoz]

Hace mucho mucho tiempo en una galaxia muy, muy lejana… 

La república se enfrentaba a una potencial  crisis económica, con el Canciller Supremo Turd Gratham cada vez siendo más estricto sobre los negocios de la república y pasando un voto para prohibir el comercio con los Hutt, el futuro se veía gris ante estos sucesos.

Mientras tanto los Hutt se encontraban en su auge, disfrutando de una época de negocios sin igual, liderados por Gubba el Hutt quien se había hecho con el poder durante la guerra contra el imperio Houk, subyugando a todos los demás carteles Hutt. 

Y cuando la esperanza de la república recayó sobre la Orden Jedi, fue cuando fueron conscientes del débil estado de la misma orden.

¡Star Wars: OLD REPUBLIC TALES !

  Día 4 de Mayo abrimos las puertas. Aún estamos en fase beta, pero nos orgullece que os unáis a nuestra galaxia.

May the fourth be with you.

FORO

 ► 

DISCORD

 ►

TUMBLR

[laninarolerabien]

Hace mucho mucho tiempo en una galaxia muy, muy lejana...  La república se enfrentaba a una potencial  crisis económica, con el Canciller Supremo Turd Gratham cada vez siendo más estricto sobre los negocios de la república y pasando un voto para prohibir el comercio con los Hutt, el futuro se veía gris ante estos sucesos. Mientras tanto los Hutt se encontraban en su auge, disfrutando de una época de negocios sin igual, liderados por Gubba el Hutt quien se había hecho con el poder durante la guerra contra el imperio Houk, subyugando a todos los demás carteles Hutt.  Y cuando la esperanza de la república recayó sobre la Orden Jedi, fue cuando fueron conscientes del débil estado de la misma orden.  ¡Star Wars: OLD REPUBLIC TALES !  Día 4 de Mayo abrimos las puertas. Aún estamos en fase beta, pero nos orgullece que os unáis a nuestra galaxia. May the fourth be with you. FORO ► DISCORD ►TUMBLR

[rolmaniacos]

Hace mucho mucho tiempo en una galaxia muy, muy lejana… 

La república se enfrentaba a una potencial  crisis económica, con el Canciller Supremo Turd Gratham cada vez siendo más estricto sobre los negocios de la república y pasando un voto para prohibir el comercio con los Hutt, el futuro se veía gris ante estos sucesos.

Mientras tanto los Hutt se encontraban en su auge, disfrutando de una época de negocios sin igual, liderados por Gubba el Hutt quien se había hecho con el poder durante la guerra contra el imperio Houk, subyugando a todos los demás carteles Hutt. 

Y cuando la esperanza de la república recayó sobre la Orden Jedi, fue cuando fueron conscientes del débil estado de la misma orden.

¡Star Wars: OLD REPUBLIC TALES !

Día 4 de Mayo abrimos las puertas. Aún estamos en fase beta, pero nos orgullece que os unáis a nuestra galaxia.

May the fourth be with you.

FORO ► DISCORD ►TUMBLR

[depizan]

I found a fan created Old Republic conversion for the West End Star Wars game, and it’s hilariously biased. Or just wildly inconsistent. I can’t decide which. I don’t usually pick on fan created things, but this is so weird.

Quick primer on WE Star Wars stats: there are six of them (Dexterity, Perception, Knowledge, Mechanical, Strength, and Technical), 2D (2 six sided dice) is average, player characters start with 18 dice to allot. (While an average, non-adventuring person in the universe would only get 12 - giving them 2D across the board or some below average attributes. Important NPCs get statted like player characters, with 18 dice.)

It was kind of an unusual game because the attributes aren’t statted across a very big range. 1D-4D is the human range, with some other species going up to 5D. (Like strength in Wookiees, for example.) Also, as you might have noticed, it assumes that player characters are pretty consistently above average.

(It was also my first Star Wars RPG, and I have a soft spot for it, which is why I was looking at the fan conversion in the first place.)

Anyway, at first the character statting looked reasonably normal. For example, Elara Dorne is statted out: Dexterity 3D+2, Perception 2D+2, Knowledge 3D+2, Mechanical 2D+2, Strength 2D+2, Technical 2D+2. (18 dice, unless I’m mathing wrong. Exactly what an important NPC should be statted with)

But then I started noticing some characters who were statted...oddly. A whole ton of companion characters are statted at 2D across the board. Maaaybe companions the creator didn’t like? (I’m guessing this because said listing includes companions some people consider “boring” like Felix Iresso and Nadia Grell, companions who are divisive, like Malavai Quinn and Kaliyo Djannis, and companions everyone hates, like Skadge. (Shouldn’t he be D4 Strength? At least? He’s a Houk!))

Then I started looking at the “Average [SWTOR player class]” stats and that was the point at which I decided I had to share the WTFery. I’m just going to share the four non-Force Sensitive classes because I can’t quite remember how Force Sensitivity fits into character creation. (Yes, I could just go look it up. I’m lazy. It’s late.)

Havoc Squad Trooper: Dexterity 3D+2, Perception 2D+2, Knowledge 1D+1, Mechanical 2D, Strength 3D, Technical 2D+2. (15 1/3 dice. ... Where’d the other 2 2/3s dice go?)

Bounty Hunter: Dexterity 3D, Perception 3D, Knowledge 2D+2, Mechanical, 2D+2, Strength 3D+2, Technical 2D (17 dice. Well, that’s better. We’re still short a die somewhere, but it’s close.)

Average Smuggler: Dexterity 2D+1, Perception 2D, Knowledge 1D+1, Mechanical 2D+2, Strength 2D, Technical 1D+2 (12 dice. 12 dice? That’s the number of dice for an unimportant NPC. They need six more. Six. What the heck? All the Smuggler companions get 18 dice worth of stats! But not the Average Smuggler. Whyyyyy? At...at least their highest stat is the one they’d use for flying. *grasping at straws*)

Average Imperial Agent: Dexterity 3D+1, Perception 4D, Knowledge 3D, Mechanical 3D, Strength 3D+2, Technical 3D (20 dice!? What the everliving fuck??? Did they steal the dice from the other classes? That’s not even the statting for a Cipher Agent (there isn’t one. thank the stars.) just, you know, an average agent. Holy Shinkies, Batman! This isn’t a Galaxy Guide, it’s Imperial Propaganda!)

I so want to know how the person (or persons) who did the conversion came up with their stats. They make no sense. None at all. Not on the companion level (Corso is stronger than Skadge? Guss is stronger than Skadge???), not on the apparent character class level. (who stole all the Smuggler’s dice???). Not even on the important other NPC level (you don’t even want to know how wonky that all gets).

But holy hell are some of the weird stats funny.

Twenty dice!? No! You don’t get twenty dice to stat out your character! Bad!

[caveartfair]

Why Sally Mann's Photographs of Her Children Can Still Make Viewers Uncomfortable

Jessie Bites, 1985. Sally Mann Phillips

In the early 1990s, photographer Sally Mann transformed one of the most banal elements of family life—the sentimental photo album—into discomfiting, divisive, and ultimately unforgettable artwork. For her series “Immediate Family,” she shot her three children (Emmett, Jessie, and Virginia) in vulnerable positions at their summer home in rural Virginia. The ensuing criticism the images received questioned the line between pornography and fine art and problematized the objectification of children.

This past December, elements of this debate again came to the fore after an online petition ordered the Metropolitan Museum of Art to either take down or newly contextualize the 1938 painting, Thérèse Dreaming, by the French artist known as Balthus. The older, male artist had portrayed a pre-teen girl sitting with a raised knee, revealing her underwear underneath a red skirt. (The museum declined to comply with the demands.) That controversy follows a long year of protests targeting art institutions and specific works, from Dana Schutz’s Open Casket (2016) at the Whitney Biennial to Sam Durant’s Scaffold (2012) at the Walker Art Center. Each of these fights hinged on the discrepancies in power between artist and subject. As artists of all disciplines grapple with the ever-evolving ethics of representing others, what can we learn from the scandal surrounding Mann’s “Immediate Family” photographs, a major touchstone of the 1990s culture wars?

Despite how the media has portrayed her, Mann views herself less as a portraitist and provocateur than as a documenter of place—specifically, the American South. Many of her photographs pay homage to her family farm in Lexington, Virginia. Mann was born Sally Munger in the small town in 1951. She first studied photography at the Putney School in Vermont, where she attended high school. During her two years at Bennington College, she met her husband, Larry Mann. She completed her undergraduate work back in Virginia, at Hollins College, in 1974, where she also received an MA in writing the following year. Her passion for narrative found another outlet when she published her memoir, the National Book Award finalist Hold Still, in 2015.

Vinland, 1992. Sally Mann Phillips

This March, the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. will open “Sally Mann: A Thousand Crossings,” an exhibition of around 115 photographs culled from Mann’s over 40-year career. The southern landscape plays a starring role, whether the photographs are of Civil War battlefields or Mann’s children. A deep sense of drama derives from shadows and light on historically fraught land. “Despite her great talent and prominence...the full range of her work had not yet received sufficient and widespread critical and scholarly attention,” says exhibition curator Sarah Greenough.

This survey will doubtlessly broaden the knowledge of Mann’s career beyond her most indelible, and controversial, series. But the photographs in “Immediate Family” remain worth exploring in their own right.

Mann began photographing her children as soon as they were born. “For years I shot the underappreciated and extraordinary domestic scenes of any mother’s life with the point-and-shoot,” she recalls in Hold Still. “But it wasn’t really until 1985 that I put on my photography eyes, and began to see the potential for serious imagery within the family.” She considers her first “good family picture” to be a shot of Jessie’s face swollen from insect bites. Immediately, the darker side of childhood, as opposed to more pristine and tired visions of innocence, attracted her. She describes her family photographs as a superstitious means of warding off real harm to her family.

The New Mothers, 1989. Sally Mann Phillips

Many of the subsequent images that eventually formed the “Immediate Family” series featured her children on the family farm—in the nude, injured, or in other vulnerable positions. Emmett’s bloody nose, Virginia’s wet bed, and Jessie’s naked dance on a table all became aesthetic fodder through their mother’s lens. In the pictures, their ages range from around one to twelve years old. Mann debuted the series at New York’s Houk Friedman Gallery (now Edwynn Houk Gallery) in the spring of 1992. Later that year, she published the images in a photo book of the same title.

Within three months, the book sold out its printing of 10,000 copies. Mann’s children became ever more visible. While they enjoyed being photographed at the time, there was no telling how their opinions of the experience would develop. Mann recalls taking her children to a psychologist to assess the impact her series was having on them; he thought they were just fine.

In September 1992, The New York Times Magazine ran a cover story by arts critic Richard B. Woodward entitled “The Disturbing Photography of Sally Mann.” The piece wasn’t overtly critical, but honed in on the children’s sexuality and raised ideas about child abuse and incest that seemed deliberately designed to spark controversy. Mann later complained that Woodward had taken her words out of context. Letters to the editor ranged from pleas to consider how Mann’s actions were affecting her children’s sexuality, to applause for Mann’s novel and striking depictions of intense maternal love.

Damaged Child, 1984. Sally Mann Phillips

The Wall Street Journal published an op-ed in February 1991 by food writer Raymond Sokolov critiquing Mann’s work. The paper accompanied it with a nude image of Virginia that had run on the cover of Aperture Magazine in 1990. Here, however, they censored the photograph by placing black bars over her eyes, nipples, and vagina. “It felt like a mutilation, not only of the image but also of Virginia herself and of her innocence,” writes Mann. She argues that the censorship, not the picture itself, gave the image a tinge of pornography.

Defending her work, Mann stresses the dramatic nature of the photographs and their separation from reality. “These are not my children; they are figures on a silvery paper slivered out of time,” she wrote over two decades later. “I believe my morality should have no bearing on the discussion of the pictures I made.” She cites Ernest Hemingway, Ezra Pound, and Paul Gauguin as artists whose works shouldn’t be disregarded due to their less-than-angelic lives. (If Mann could dismiss the articles and the letters, more frightening was the stalker her work attracted. One man wrote to the children’s school—in addition to editors and  journalists—asking for more information about them. Both Mann and at least one of her children suffered sleepless nights in fear of their own safety.)

I asked National Gallery curator Greenough about the connection between a series like “Immediate Family” and more recent backlash against, say, the work of Balthus. “I think that it’s fascinating the way culture seems to be going in cycles,” she noted. “When we began [planning our exhibition] in 2014, it did seem as if most of the moral panic over the depiction of child nudity had receded and that ‘Immediate Family’ really had been widely embraced as one of the most consistently affecting and revelatory photographic explorations of childhood that had ever been published.”

Dog Scratches, 1991. Sally Mann Edwynn Houk Gallery

The timing of Mann’s initial unveiling of “Immediate Family” situated her work within larger discussions about morality in photography. In 1989, U.S. senators Al D’Amato and Jesse Helms railed against artist Andres Serrano’s 1987 photograph Immersion (Piss Christ), which depicts a plastic figurine of Jesus on a crucifix submerged in Serrano’s urine. The artist had indirectly received partial funding from the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) to exhibit the work, and the senators wanted to prevent similarly “obscene” art from receiving government money. The Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. subsequently cancelled an exhibition of sexually explicit photographs by Robert Mapplethorpe, which had also received NEA funds. In 1990, the director of Cincinnati’s Contemporary Arts Center, Dennis Barrie, went to trial for obscenity after the museum displayed Mapplethorpe’s portraits of semi-nude children and BDSM practices. (He was acquitted later that year.)

The same year, the F.B.I. confiscated Jock Sturges’s equipment and prints of nude women and children who had consented to model for him. Sturges, they said, may be guilty of criminal violations of child-pornography statutes, but the U.S. Grand Jury decided not to indict him after a 17-month investigation. Mann worked under a similar threat, though the government never took action against her.

Interestingly, the uproar over “Immediate Family” represents one of the few cases where both the political right and left have united to condemn an artist. Feminist writer Mary Gordon attacked Mann for unnecessarily sexualizing her daughter, while charges of pornography emanated from conservative circles. In her defense, Mann invoked Oscar Wilde who, she writes, asserted “that the hypocritical, prudish, and philistine English public, when unable to find the art in a work of art, instead looked for the man in it.” Wilde died in 1900. Over a hundred years later, we’re still debating—albeit with more nuanced ideas about how power functions—whether artists’ foibles and oversights render their work unfit for exhibition halls, publications, and screens big and small.

from Artsy News