YouTube's first video was honoured in a London museum exhibit on digital history
TOI GLOBAL DESK | TOI GLOBAL | Feb 19, 2026, 02:18 IST
A visit inside London’s Victoria and Albert Museum now includes a rebuilt version of YouTube’s original webpage. There sits the very first video ever uploaded, frozen in time. This display anchors itself within a lasting collection. It reflects how deeply one website shaped modern life. Not just tech changes show up here; habits, voices, and moments once unseen now matter. A quiet nod to how fast sharing ideas can shift everything.
TL;DR
A slice of internet history sits in a London gallery today. There, visitors encounter a recreation of YouTube's original webpage. The very first clip ever uploaded plays nearby. This moment marks how deeply the platform shaped online life. Not just a tech exhibit, it reflects shifts in how people share stories. Viewed one way, it’s code and design frozen in time. What stands out is how ordinary moments became cultural landmarks. Screens glow with what once felt temporary but now feels foundational.
On February 19, in London, the Victoria and Albert Museum opened an installation showing how the first YouTube watch page looked, along with that original clip posted years ago, seen now as a turning point in how we share media. Instead of just saving objects, curators chose to highlight where digital storytelling began, using this recreation to mark a shift in everyday communication. While some might overlook such screens as ordinary, here it stands, framed quietly, reminding visitors how much changed when anyone could suddenly broadcast to everyone.
At the display sits “Me at the zoo", a short film lasting just 19 seconds, posted online by Jawed Karim, co-creator of YouTube, on April 23, 2005. There he is, age 25 back then, speaking offhand about elephant trunks while standing near the animals at San Diego's zoo. Since it first appeared, numbers from both the museum and the site show view counts past 382 million, along with more than 18 million thumbs-ups recorded.
A voice from the museum explained how their digital preservation crew worked for a year and a half to rebuild what an original YouTube layout looked like on December 8, 2006, capturing the earliest known version still traceable online. Teamwork happened alongside YouTube's interface designers together with OIO, a studio out of London, keeping details true. That effort locked down authenticity through close coordination across groups.
Now showing in the Design 1900 to Now space at the museum’s South Kensington location, officially called V&A South Kensington, are the rebuilt page and film. Over at V&A East Storehouse, another small exhibit breaks down how the restoration unfolded. Seeing both gives a clearer picture, staff noted, one of outcome, the other of effort. The full piece stands ready for view, while behind-the-scenes steps unfold nearby.
Time travel? Not quite, just how it looked when YouTube first started. Neal Mohan, the person now running YouTube, called it a chance to see where things began. A glimpse into old layouts shows how fast everything changed. Walking through feels like flipping pages of a digital diary from years ago. The display isn’t about nostalgia; it’s more like tracing steps that led here. One moment you’re staring at colours nobody uses anymore; next you realise how much stayed behind. What used to be normal looks strange today. That shift didn’t happen overnight, yet somehow it did.
A frozen moment from the web lives on, according to Corinna Gardner. As senior curator of design and digital at the museum, she sees old pages as quiet markers of change. That era, often called Web 2.0, brought tools where people didn’t just browse; they built. Think mid-2000s. Platforms began bending around users, not the other way. Take YouTube’s earliest watch screen: bare bones, slow by today’s pace. Yet it helped twist how stories spread, how eyes lingered online. Simple layouts, big ripple.
Not every museum sees it the same way, yet more are starting to treat digital spaces as part of history. Some now store old apps, web pages, and screen designs just like they would a painting or sculpture. What changed? One clue sits in how people actually engage; videos made by curators sometimes pull bigger crowds on screens than inside exhibit halls. These shifts didn’t arrive overnight; they grew quietly alongside changes in how culture moves. Online video isn’t just background noise, it shapes what gets taught, seen, and shared. Recognition creeps in slowly when attendance numbers speak louder than tradition.
What sticks around isn’t always what matters; this exhibit works both as a memory piece and a tool for researchers diving into how online life began. Keeping old web stuff alive gets tricky, since updates tend to wipe out the way things looked, worked, or were built in the first place.
A slice of internet history sits in a London gallery today. There, visitors encounter a recreation of YouTube's original webpage. The very first clip ever uploaded plays nearby. This moment marks how deeply the platform shaped online life. Not just a tech exhibit, it reflects shifts in how people share stories. Viewed one way, it’s code and design frozen in time. What stands out is how ordinary moments became cultural landmarks. Screens glow with what once felt temporary but now feels foundational.
On February 19, in London, the Victoria and Albert Museum opened an installation showing how the first YouTube watch page looked, along with that original clip posted years ago, seen now as a turning point in how we share media. Instead of just saving objects, curators chose to highlight where digital storytelling began, using this recreation to mark a shift in everyday communication. While some might overlook such screens as ordinary, here it stands, framed quietly, reminding visitors how much changed when anyone could suddenly broadcast to everyone.
At the display sits “Me at the zoo", a short film lasting just 19 seconds, posted online by Jawed Karim, co-creator of YouTube, on April 23, 2005. There he is, age 25 back then, speaking offhand about elephant trunks while standing near the animals at San Diego's zoo. Since it first appeared, numbers from both the museum and the site show view counts past 382 million, along with more than 18 million thumbs-ups recorded.
A voice from the museum explained how their digital preservation crew worked for a year and a half to rebuild what an original YouTube layout looked like on December 8, 2006, capturing the earliest known version still traceable online. Teamwork happened alongside YouTube's interface designers together with OIO, a studio out of London, keeping details true. That effort locked down authenticity through close coordination across groups.
Now showing in the Design 1900 to Now space at the museum’s South Kensington location, officially called V&A South Kensington, are the rebuilt page and film. Over at V&A East Storehouse, another small exhibit breaks down how the restoration unfolded. Seeing both gives a clearer picture, staff noted, one of outcome, the other of effort. The full piece stands ready for view, while behind-the-scenes steps unfold nearby.
Time travel? Not quite, just how it looked when YouTube first started. Neal Mohan, the person now running YouTube, called it a chance to see where things began. A glimpse into old layouts shows how fast everything changed. Walking through feels like flipping pages of a digital diary from years ago. The display isn’t about nostalgia; it’s more like tracing steps that led here. One moment you’re staring at colours nobody uses anymore; next you realise how much stayed behind. What used to be normal looks strange today. That shift didn’t happen overnight, yet somehow it did.
A frozen moment from the web lives on, according to Corinna Gardner. As senior curator of design and digital at the museum, she sees old pages as quiet markers of change. That era, often called Web 2.0, brought tools where people didn’t just browse; they built. Think mid-2000s. Platforms began bending around users, not the other way. Take YouTube’s earliest watch screen: bare bones, slow by today’s pace. Yet it helped twist how stories spread, how eyes lingered online. Simple layouts, big ripple.
Not every museum sees it the same way, yet more are starting to treat digital spaces as part of history. Some now store old apps, web pages, and screen designs just like they would a painting or sculpture. What changed? One clue sits in how people actually engage; videos made by curators sometimes pull bigger crowds on screens than inside exhibit halls. These shifts didn’t arrive overnight; they grew quietly alongside changes in how culture moves. Online video isn’t just background noise, it shapes what gets taught, seen, and shared. Recognition creeps in slowly when attendance numbers speak louder than tradition.
What sticks around isn’t always what matters; this exhibit works both as a memory piece and a tool for researchers diving into how online life began. Keeping old web stuff alive gets tricky, since updates tend to wipe out the way things looked, worked, or were built in the first place.