The honest question people ask — usually with a raised eyebrow — is: isn't this just stealing? It's a fair challenge, and the answer is the most important idea on the whole climb. Real appropriation adds new meaning or comment; copying just takes.
If you reproduce someone's picture and the only thing you've done is reproduce it, that's a copy, and it's not yours to claim. If you reproduce it and the act of reproducing it says something — pokes at originality, criticises the original, flips its meaning, turns it into a question — then you've transformed it, and that transformation is your contribution.
Transformation Is the Test
The key word is transformation. Not "did I change the pixels?" but "did I change the meaning?" Duchamp's moustache changed almost nothing on the page and transformed everything about how we read it. A perfect colour photocopy changes nothing about the meaning and so transforms nothing. The clearest cases of real appropriation usually carry a critique — they're using the borrowed image to argue something, not just to have a nice picture for free.
Credit, Context and Care
Three more things keep you on the right side of the line. Credit: when it matters, name what you've borrowed — pretending the original is your own invention is the thing that turns clever into dodgy. Context: the same borrowing can be sharp in one setting and lazy in another, so think about where and how your work will be met. And cultural sensitivity: some images, symbols and stories belong to communities, and lifting them — especially sacred or cultural material that isn't yours — can do real harm even when you meant well. Appropriating across cultures without permission or understanding isn't edgy, it's careless. The strongest appropriation artists are precise about whose image they're borrowing and why.
In the toy, you'll meet examples that sit on both sides and a few that hover right on the line. Decide, then read the reasoning — over a few rounds you'll start to feel where transformation begins and mere taking ends.