The useful thing about not being a materials scientist is that nobody expects you to fall in love with the molecule. Haley Marie Keith fell for the consequence instead. In 2015, during her first MBA class at Oklahoma State University, she encountered a patent-pending nano-additive developed by professor Ranji Vaidyanathan and his research team. It could improve the toughness of composite materials, but it was still sitting inside the university. The class assignment was to interview industries and imagine a route to market. Keith, who had studied history and business, saw a company hiding inside the homework.
She and Kevin Keith, an engineer who would become both her husband and co-founder, started doing the plain work that follows an uncommon idea. They called manufacturers. They asked where composites failed. They tested whether the improvement mattered enough to change a purchasing decision. Their back-of-the-napkin calculation imagined the effect of the additive across the composite parts of a Boeing 787. The number looked almost absurdly large. Keith's response was brisk: “It seemed impossible, but I like impossible.”
The line has the snap of a founder quote, but MITO Material Solutions was built through activities with considerably less snap: licensing, grant applications, production scale-up, qualification tests, standards meetings, investor conversations, and more tests. The company began in 2016. By graduation in December 2017, the couple had won $161,000 through business-plan competitions and another $70,000 from grant organizations. In January 2018, they moved into their first lab.
The translator in the room
Keith grew up in northwest Indiana, where both of her parents worked in the recreational-vehicle business. Manufacturing was not a distant sector rendered in steel-gray stock photos. It was an everyday subject with shifts, processes, cost pressures, and customers. That background gave her a suspicion of novelty for novelty's sake. A clever additive that required a factory to discard its existing equipment was not especially clever to the person paying for the factory.
MITO's idea was to functionalize graphene oxide and other materials so they could disperse and bond inside familiar polymer systems. The company was not making graphene. It was modifying it, adding chemical functionality so a tiny amount could improve properties in a host resin or plastic. The science belongs to the lab. The proposition belongs on a purchasing call: a stronger or tougher component, less material, no dramatic reinvention of the production line.
The lab-to-line translation
Keith never tried to blur her role. In an early interview, she called herself the only nontechnical founder on the team and said she was proud of it. Her business background let her explain the technology to almost any audience. In deep tech, translation is not decoration applied after the invention. It is part of the mechanism. A molecule cannot negotiate a license, learn a customer's objection, or explain why a fraction of a percent belongs in a mixing process.
It's OK to not know everything. I tap into my network to find people who can help our team wade through the unknown.Haley Marie Keith
That comfort with the unknown became a management style. MITO's founding team joined technical and commercial instincts rather than forcing one person to perform both. Vaidyanathan remained the inventor connected to the underlying university work. Kevin led engineering and product development. Haley operated the company, spoke with customers and investors, and converted specialist knowledge into decisions.
The ski was a truth machine
Advanced materials live under a peculiar burden. They promise invisible improvements. A powder goes into resin at a small concentration; the final object looks much as it did before. The sale therefore depends on evidence, patience, and a customer willing to test. MITO found an unusually vivid proving ground in custom skis.
Folsom Custom Skis produced test sets using MITO's E-GO additive. Laboratory measurements could examine toughness and damping. Then skiers could take the same material onto a mountain, where chatter, responsiveness, and fatigue become felt experience. After the tests, MITO received a branded set for a trade show. The chemistry had acquired edges, bindings, and a reason for strangers to stop at the booth.
The sporting-goods route expanded. By the time First Graphene announced its acquisition, MITO technology was being used by brands including Folsom, Parlor Skis, and St. Croix Rods. These were not the enormous aerospace applications from the original napkin. They were useful commercial wedges: premium products, performance-sensitive customers, and objects that made an invisible additive discussable.
Small input, widening reach
A conceptual view of MITO's commercial path, not a financial chart.
Keith's larger case connected material efficiency to climate. A tougher component can last longer. A stronger composite can potentially use less carbon fiber. A lighter vehicle demands less energy to move. She opened one climate interview with a clean thesis: “Industrial revolutions start with materials.” The sentence matters because it places climate work upstream, before a product arrives in a showroom and long before a consumer can choose it.
Standards are part of the product
Graphene spent years as a wonder material in search of ordinary use. The problem was not merely production. Buyers needed consistent language for what they were buying, methods for testing it, and confidence that one supplier's graphene-related material could be discussed alongside another's. Keith entered that slow institutional work as a nominated U.S. industry expert in graphene-related nanotechnology standards through ANSI and ISO.
She also served for two years on the board of the Institute for Advanced Composites Manufacturing Innovation, representing small and medium-sized businesses. For a five-person materials company, participation in standards bodies and industry consortia consumes scarce time. It also creates trust. MITO could help shape the vocabulary by which a young category would become purchasable.
The work reflects a recurring Keith instinct: the market around a technology is something to build, not something to await. She had learned the same lesson at the university. A patent may exist. A need may exist. Between them sits a thicket of definitions, risk, procurement, financing, and human hesitation. Founders do not cross that thicket once. They maintain the path.
Finds the future MITO technology in an Oklahoma State MBA class.
Co-founds MITO Material Solutions with Kevin Keith.
Joins the Forbes 30 Under 30 Manufacturing & Industry list and Conexus Indiana's Rising 30.
Contributes to graphene-related standards work and advanced-composites leadership.
First Graphene completes the MITO acquisition; Keith joins to lead U.S. business development.
An exit with the founder still inside
On June 18, 2026, First Graphene said its acquisition of MITO's assets, intellectual property, product lines, and manufacturing capabilities was complete. The buyer gained four product families spanning thermosets, thermoplastics, composites, coatings, liquids, resins, and nanomaterial additives. It also gained a U.S. commercial platform and a pipeline of manufacturers already testing products.
Keith joined First Graphene as Vice President Business Development, charged with U.S. operations, commercial engagement, and market expansion. It is an exit with continuity built in. The founder who learned to explain the platform from its first classroom appearance is now responsible for connecting it to a larger graphitic-materials portfolio and a global manufacturing footprint.
Her statement at the deal's completion was characteristically practical. MITO had reached a point where global operations and manufacturing facilities were essential to adoption. First Graphene offered production capacity, international reach, and adjacent products. The acquisition solved a scaling constraint rather than merely supplying a ceremonial ending.
It also preserved a valuable continuity for customers. The product names and equipment could change hands on paper, but the commercial memory stayed close: why a particular manufacturer began testing, which performance measure mattered, where integration had stalled, and who needed the next answer. In advanced materials, this accumulated context is quiet infrastructure. It rarely appears in a patent and cannot be packed into a drum of additive. Keith carried it across the deal.
There is an attractive neatness to the arc. A technology waited on a university shelf because it needed a commercial owner. Ten years later, the company built around it chose a larger owner because the technology needed more manufacturing reach. At both turns, Keith's decision was the same: put the material where it has a better chance of being used.
The smallest ingredient in the product required the broadest view of the system.The MITO lesson
The business lesson is easy to steal and difficult to practice. Deep-tech companies do not sell a breakthrough in isolation. They sell its ability to fit. Into a resin. Into equipment. Into a standard. Into a buyer's risk tolerance. Into a supply chain that is already moving and resents being told to stop.
Keith's training in history now seems less like a detour. History is the study of how one condition becomes another, with people, institutions, incentives, and accidents crowded between. MITO's story is a materials transition told at human scale: a professor, a class, a couple, a license, a lab, a ski, a standards committee, and finally an acquisition. Graphene may be atomically thin. Commercialization never is.
Continue the trail
Profile current through August 25, 2026.