Borkowski’s first alien encounter occurred during a group therapy session at a psychiatric hospital near Kiel. Admitted for unknown reasons—some say he lost speech, others that he spoke in shifting colors—he experienced a tonal contact: a low, rhythmic hum that distorted his perception of time and left all doors perpetually ajar. Following this, he painted obsessively—not images, but layered transmissions that shimmer and pulse under prolonged gaze. Doctors labeled it “visual glossolalia.” Borkowski called it “answering.”
The hospital walls echoed with whispers nobody else could hear, and sometimes his canvases pulsed faintly in the dark. Staff dismissed it as side effects or fever dreams, but Borkowski worked as if responding to a call only he could perceive.
He said the paintings weren’t made to be understood. Instead, they were attempts to hold open a door—one that led to somewhere else, somewhere impossible to explain. Whether a gift or a curse, the work remains a silent dialogue between him and something otherworldly.