How to Find Land for Your Micro-Resort? (Part 3)

The Art of Seeing Value Others Miss

Last week, we talked about the science of land selection: demographics, zoning, market data, and tools to help you think critically. (Part 2)

But finding land, like many things in hospitality, isn’t just a science.
It’s also an art.

Today, let’s explore how to train your eye for beauty, possibility, and hidden value.

And to do that, I want you to imagine this:

Imagine:

You’re in a flea market.
The air smells like old books and kettle corn.
A baby’s crying somewhere. A man is playing a sad tune on a violin that’s missing a string.
You’re walking past tables stacked with cracked plates, faded postcards, and mismatched candlesticks.

You’re not really looking for anything. But you are looking.

And then you see it.

A dusty old painting, barely visible under a pile of vinyl records.
The frame is chipped. The canvas? Caked in dirt and smudged fingerprints.

Price tag: $10.

Would you buy it?

Here it is:

Now, what if I told you this muddy, forgotten canvas was The Hay Wain by John Constable?
An original oil painting from 1821. A timeless masterpiece of English landscape painting. Priceless work.

The one you just found at the flea market... covered in grime. Sitting out in the sun. Overlooked.

The seller doesn’t know.
The crowd doesn’t know.
But you — you’ve seen this painting before.
You know what it is. And more importantly, you know what it could be.

That’s the art of finding land.

Note: This is a digitally altered version of Constable’s The Hay Wain (1821), used for educational and metaphorical purposes only, with deep respect for the original masterpiece and its enduring beauty.

The Listings Everyone Misses

You scroll through hundreds of listings.
One lot is “perfect.” Great views, cleared, utilities nearby.
And 1,000 other investors have also saved it. The price is climbing. Fast.

Poof — it’s gone. Someone just got there faster than you.

Then there’s this other one.

Weird shape.
Strange angle.
No description.
Terrible photos.
Maybe an old RV is parked on it.

You pause.
Zoom in.
Picture the morning light coming through that gap in the trees.
You start to see a path. A concept. A place people would talk about.

Others scroll past it.
You save it.

That’s your Hay Wain in the flea market.
That’s your edge.

Beauty isn’t always obvious. It reveals itself to those brave enough to look beyond the surface.

How to Train Your Eye for That Kind of Beauty

1. Expose Yourself to Beauty​
Not just the trendy kind. Go deeper — study ancient buildings, handcrafted spaces, wild landscapes. From grand designs to small details, learn to recognize what feels timeless or intentional.
Collect what inspires you. Create folders, boards, and references.
​Beauty is a muscle. Use it. Feed it. Stretch it.

2. Learn to See Beyond the Surface​
Don’t judge land, buildings, or ideas at first glance.
Look at what can be improved, uncovered, reimagined.

That awkward slope? Maybe it just needs grading.
Those overgrown trees? A natural privacy screen.
That worn-down shed? Your future check-in kiosk.

Seeing beauty means understanding what’s fixed, what’s flexible, and what’s full of potential.

3. Let Go of Perfection​
It doesn’t have to be pristine. It has to be possible.
Most land will have flaws. Most buildings will need work.
That doesn’t mean it’s wrong. It just means you need a vision.

4. Study What Moves You — And Ask Why​
When something catches your eye, pause and reflect.
What exactly makes it beautiful?
Is it symmetry? Contrast? Simplicity? Warmth?
Write it down. Train yourself to notice patterns in what you love.

A Personal Example

This kind of seeing — looking past the surface to spot hidden potential — isn’t just about land.
It shows up everywhere. Even in hiring.

When I started working in data analytics, I didn’t know how to hire the right people.
I got lucky a few times, but mostly, I was guessing.

After thousands of resumes and many, many interviews, I started to see patterns.
I trained my eye to spot real talent. Not the polished, obvious kind, but the kind hidden in small details.

Eventually, I could recognize it quickly. I knew what to look for.

The people I loved to hire had something in common:

They were endlessly curious.
They lit up when faced with a hard challenge.
And they loved what they were doing.

That was the beauty.

Some of those candidates were shy. Nervous.
But they became the best hires in the world — people I still love deeply.

The same happened when we bought our own homes.
They weren’t pretty.
Our families thought we were making a mistake.

But we knew what they could become.
We saw the beauty before anyone else did.
​

Where to Start

If you want to become a better creator of unique stays, start here:

• Check out ArchDaily (I’m not affiliated, I just love it).

• Create a Pinterest board for cabins, jungle domes, cliffside structures.

• Study buildings that make you pause.

• Ask yourself why.

• Why does one space make you feel something, while another doesn’t?

Start there.

Train your beauty muscle.​
The more you study, collect, and question what moves you, the easier it becomes to recognize potential — in buildings, in land, and in ideas others overlook.

And One More Thing…

Go listen to music.
Go to the theater.
Watch a movie that makes your chest tighten.
Read a poem.

You will feel something.

Because beauty will crack something open in you.
And once it does, everything you build will be better because of it.