Lucas Blalock makes darkly comic photographs that probe discomfiting corners of the psyche while making a bawdy mess of staid photographic norms. His pictures are purposely awkward, ham-fisted, and jury-rigged. They are constructed with software that normally fades into the background, but which he thrusts center stage. Anyone with a rudimentary working knowledge of Photoshop can understand the methods Blalock employs—a jittery fuzz of clone stamping here, an irregular bit of masking there. Indeed, these are not the tricks he has up his sleeve. And this feeling that we can see the gears of the image turning is part of Blalock’s program.