The first time I noticed it, I was sitting on the bench in front of the painting, letting myself be hypnotized by the controlled chaos of the large canvas. I was admiring how much depth could be felt by the use of only five colors, when suddenly my gaze drifted across it. I rubbed by eyes thinking that maybe I’d been staring for so long that my eyes were playing tricks on me. But when I got up and walked closer, there it was! A sixth color about the size of the tip of a pinky finger: a single red drip. A hidden gem. I laughed out loud, feeling like in some funny way Pollock was smiling back at me through that little dot.