S1, E98: Nomatic, VP of Marketing - James Atkin
The conversation traces a kinetic life arc: a St. George kid bribing older skaters with Halloween candy grows into a world-traveling pro, nearly dies in Tokyo, and later powers neighborhoods during Hurricane Sandy. That energy—showing up, stepping into fear, and learning by doing—runs through each phase. Early on, James describes how skateboarding in the 90s was not the Olympic-friendly image it holds today. It was fringe and messy, but it taught him how to communicate with strangers, handle cops, bounce back from dozens of falls, and build trust across ages. Those social muscles—negotiating access to spots, organizing trips, asking for favors—quietly became marketing fundamentals. The choices were stark after high school: mission, military, or California. A breakup became the psychological shove. He moved to Carlsbad with $1,000, slept in cars and on couches, and refused to overstay his welcome. The learning came fast: get a clip, get a photo, sell a pair of shoes to fund gas, be a good hang, and keep your word. When Hurley opened Japan, he wasn’t on the list—so he found a ticket and showed up anyway. Hard work made its own luck: the ad that put him fully on the team came from scrounged train fare pulled from couch cushions.
The golden era of skateboarding felt like art, not sport. You’d post up in Barcelona, film, shoot two photos, and soak in a city for weeks. Culture and community mattered more than podiums. There were terrifying edges—like the broken bottle to the neck outside a Tokyo bar—and euphoric peaks—like the instant chemistry of meeting his future wife on a whirlwind trip back to premiere Hurley’s film. Those years built a deep well of resilience, scrappiness, and network instinct. When the recession hit and sponsorships dried up, he went home to St. George to help family, started washing windows to fill the gaps, and eased back into school for an associate’s degree. The pivot didn’t happen overnight; it was a long taper from daily sessions to monthly travel, then to a different definition of momentum.
Goal Zero became the bridge from skating to business. A short contract driving a van to Crankworx turned into a calling: portable solar, battery packs, real utility you can hold. He recognized the same muscle memory that skate taught him—focus, repetition, and a bias for action—applied perfectly to event activations and brand storytelling. Without formal credentials, he wrote product copy, built a makeshift photo studio, shot assets, and pushed content live for major retailers. Then came Hurricane Sandy. Instead of waiting, he rallied a buy-one-give-one and a truckload of product, worked with Team Rubicon, and got power and light directly into affected neighborhoods. Sales spiked, yes, but more importantly, the team delivered help when red tape slowed others. Those days cemented his philosophy: empathy first, then innovation, then profitability. It also proved that brand is a living thing—built by action, not just ads.
After acquisition, he learned how much bureaucracy can blunt momentum. He carried the startup speed to Black Diamond and then Topo Designs, where 2020’s plans evaporated in 45 minutes. Burnout, a high-risk health situation at home, and the desire for kids to be near grandparents pushed a hard reset. Moving back to Utah reframed work around family and place. Nomatic arrived at the right time: a scrappy, self-funded brand with standout bags and camera gear but operational drag. Before storytelling, they fixed the basics—shipping speed, support response, and consistent experience—because premium positioning collapses if the journey feels cheap. Only then did they press on community, creators, and a clear promise: approachable premium for travelers and makers. With revenge travel roaring back, Nomatic scaled product lines, ventured into apparel, and leaned into creators like Peter McKinnon and Dude Perfect to anchor credibility and reach.
Energy and soul: that’s his language for brand. He recalls picking up a famous product and suddenly feeling nothing—later learning the company had shed the athletes and culture that once animated it. That cautionary tale drives how he leads. He builds by handshakes, not handoffs: get to shows, talk to buyers, listen to customers, create programs where every employee calls a shopper, and seed product to creators who truly use the gear. The goal isn’t commodity; it’s community. Globally, Nomatic is adding “more people, more places, more product,” moving from Kickstarter roots to camera stores, Best Buy, Dillard’s, and a Costco SMU, while aligning European trademarks to reunify the brand. The throughline remains simple and hard: show up, be real, and ship value. The skating lessons endure—break the ice, take the slam, learn fast, try again. Whether it’s a 16-stair rail or a freighted market launch, the same physics of courage apply. That’s how a kid from St. George built a life that still moves at street speed, now pointing toward lasting impact.
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