Identical information, different form. Instead of five swatches in a row, each direction is drawn as a mark and as a block of area — because a strip tells you the order of colours and a block tells you how much of each you will actually see.
The mark. Each emblem is generated from that direction’s own five measured colours: concentric rings ordered by role, so the ground is the field and the accent is the point at the centre. The detached crossbar with the inward-curling ends is carried over from the brandmark language already developed for this property — the floating bar and the scroll terminals — without borrowing a name that is not settled yet.
The block. Beside each mark the same five colours are laid out as area rather than as a line, at roughly the proportions their roles imply. It is the quickest way to see that two directions sharing a palette can still feel completely different, because the quantities differ. Every colour here still copies on click.
Burnt amber-red, Rain Forest green, mustard gold — the three you said you actually want, in the proportions the property already holds them.
Three saturated hues with no true neutral between them will fight at large scale.
Your own lever taken to the quiet end: the more muted it is, the more it disappears into the cabin.
It is one step from mud.
The same lever at the opposite end. This is amber as a signal rather than as a surface.
This is the direction most likely to look dated in five years, and it is the hardest to live inside.
The wool that covers two studio walls, promoted from supporting to lead.
Sage-and-cream is the most crowded territory in this whole category — the elevated-camp brands already own it.
Built outward from the room that is already named after its colour.
Yellow at scale is the least durable choice here.
One cool note against three warm ones — your words: a stand-out accent contrasting a more harmonious group.
Every blue on this property came off rack equipment.
Every colour here came off a woven textile — nothing from paint, wood, metal or equipment.
It is the least flexible of the ten.
Five colours, all off the faces of studio equipment. It could not belong to a hotel, a lodge, or anywhere else.
It has nothing to do with the building.
Almost no colour at all, on purpose, with one red allowed.
It is the least distinctive on a page and the easiest to mistake for every other restrained studio identity.
Built backwards from the camera: only colours that survive capture and grade at low sun, when this canyon looks its best.
It is a compromise by construction.
The pop-art boot in the lodge is a finished palette on its own. Whoever made it resolved these five against each other decades ago.
It belongs to one object.
The artwork in the lodge entry carries a navy that appears nowhere else in 327 readings, sitting inside an otherwise warm set.
The navy is genuinely rare, which cuts both ways: there is nothing to pair it with, and one object cannot carry a colour on its own.
Every colour off the original log cabin — the oldest colour story on the property and the only one that cannot be bought new.
It is dark, and it is dark in the same way throughout — this is the direction most likely to disappear on a screen and the hardest to make legible.
The painted risers in the lodge carry more measured variation than any other single object on the property. This is five of them.
It is a mid-tone set with no light and no dark, which makes it the flattest of the twenty on a page.
The lodge upstairs holds the palest woods and textiles on the property. This is the closest thing to an answer for the light-mass problem.
It is the least characteristic of the property.
Near-blacks and cool greens off the instruments, with a single warm ember.
It is nearly monochrome and it is nearly black, which is exactly the territory every other destination studio already occupies.
Granite, poured concrete and weathered deck, with one warm pop. The exterior has almost no colour and this is honest about that.
Three of the five are effectively the same stone grey at different lightnesses, so it is barely a palette.
The red couch and the tapestries at their darkest, against a pale ground and one gold.
It is the closest thing here to a conventional heritage palette, which means it is the easiest to mistake for a hundred other lodges.
The live-room drapery and the pale rug fibres — the colours that are everywhere and that nobody notices.
It is forgettable, and deliberately so.
The inverse of every other direction: the pale colours lead and the warmth appears only as an accent.
Almost nothing on the property currently looks like this.
20 directions, 100 colours, every one a measured reading. This is the same set as the main directions document — nothing here is new information, only a different way of holding it. Use whichever reads faster for you; if it is this one, the other document can be rebuilt in this form.
Each emblem is generated, not drawn — change a colour in the data and the mark changes with it.