I’ve always had a complicated relationship with screens. As a filmmaker and cinephile, my life revolves around them. As a self-proclaimed screen addict, I’ve struggled with the balance, immersing myself in visuals, in stories, in the endless scroll of content. And as a parent, I’ve had to confront the kind of relationship with screens that I want to pass down to my children.
It’s something I’ve been consciously trying to improve: my relationship with screens. Not to eliminate them, but to transform them into something evermore intentional, something meaningful. And that’s where Slow TV changed my life.
Slow TV became my antidote to the noise. Instead of the constant barrage of news, social media, and over-stimulation, it offered a different kind of presence, one that gave me my thoughts back. It wasn’t about zoning out, but rather tuning in, centering myself. And over time, it became the natural background of my home. Instead of random podcasts, YouTube videos or movies playing in the background, NOMADslow.tv was always on. If no one was watching something specific, Slow TV filled the space with its quiet rhythm, moving light, timelessness.
My children took to it naturally. Without prompting, they would turn it back on after finishing a show. They’d leave it playing while listening to music. My oldest, Jane, even started using it while studying, saying it helped her focus. And I wasn’t surprised, because it does. That’s exactly why I have it on while I get ready in the morning, while I work, while I transition through the day. It cuts through the chaos, allowing for clarity. It doesn’t demand attention; it simply exists, letting you engage with it, or not, on your own terms.
But then came Kino, my third child, my first son. A baby in the house changed the equation. And just like everything else, he was drawn to the screen. His little eyes followed the movement, the light. He stared out the window just as much, lost in the wonder of the real world. But he also gazed at the screen, not in a hypnotized daze, not in that glazed-over way kids get when exposed to overly stimulating content, but with genuine curiosity. And something about that felt... okay, even good.
Knowing that the only thing playing was slow, atmospheric visuals, images of nature, of water, of shifting clouds, meant I didn’t feel uneasy about it. It wasn’t the numbing effect of cartoons or the chaotic noise of commercials. It was something else entirely. Kino would watch for a bit, then look away, his attention never trapped but rather engaged on his own terms. It even seemed to improve his mood, soften his energy. And so, I started making atmospheric films specifically for him.
Thus, Baby Kino was born. A series of slow TV for babies, designed not to entertain, but to nurture. To introduce the seasons as he experiences them for the first time, to create a soothing atmosphere that mirrors the natural rhythm of his growth. Baby Kino’s First Fall was the beginning, and now Baby Kino Winter continues that journey.
I don’t claim to have the definitive answer on screen time for babies. Maybe the best answer is to turn off the screen entirely. But I don’t think so. This feels right. And I can’t help but wonder if there are other parents out there willing to try it, willing to integrate Slow TV into their home and observe its effects. Not just on their babies, but on themselves, on their families as a whole.
If you’re curious, if you’re open to experimenting with a different kind of screen time, I’d love to hear from you. Let’s exchange experiences. Let’s see if this can be something more. Because maybe we can change the way we engage with screens, for ourselves, for our children, for the future, NOW.
Reach out to me if you're interested in exchanging on this : j@NOMADlife.tv
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